The Remedy
by Devonny Rose
Summary: In the summer before Harry's 6th year, he decides he will no longer sit back and watch anymore. "This could be the last day of my life. I might as well have some fun." RR.
1. 1 Who I Am

Title: The Remedy  
  
Author: Devonny Rose  
  
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)  
  
Spoilers: All five books, including QTTA and FB+WTFT  
  
A/N: Okay, I finished reading 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' awhile ago and it is the BEST BOOK EVER! I can't wait until the next one comes out. Of course, it will probably be awhile. So I am contenting myself with writing my own version of the Sixth Book. Or, at least, the summer before sixth year (so far *wink*)  
  
On another note, I just want to say I am very, very, very, VERY upset that Sirius died. He was the best! Poor, poor Padfoot (not you, Xirb!)  
  
Also, I'll have to correct what I say about Harry/Ginny relationships. It seems J.K.R. is headed that way. Uggg. At least, the way she writes doesn't involve Harry going to the Burrow and seeing Ginny 'all grown up' and falling madly in love with her. Those bug me!  
  
I still despise H/G fics, though.  
  
Also, in relation to my other stories, I've been having trouble writing them lately because of all the plot ideas bouncing around my head. I'm hoping that this will clear up that matter, so I can get back to writing them. As for when I will update this fic, I solemnly swear on my writing ability (or lack thereof) that I will update this once a week. If not, I give you permission to do let Xirb and Per do something horrible to me. *whimpers*  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. The plot is mine. Sort of. You know what I mean. This is fanfiction, I don't own it. Furthermore, I do not own any of the songs quoted in this fic.  
  
On to the story then......  
  
CH1: Who I Am  
  
"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming,  
  
All the moments of truth in your lies,  
  
When everything feels like the movies,  
  
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive.  
  
And I don't want the world to see me,  
  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand,  
  
When everything's meant to be broken,  
  
I just want you to know who I am."  
  
June 29, 1996  
  
Harry Potter lay sprawled out on his bed one lazy June day. He was bored. And depressed.  
  
Why you may ask? Looking around his room, you would see many strange and unusual things most would love to fiddle around with. Stacked precautiously* on a small desk by the window, were piles of books with titles like: 'Quidditch Through The Ages' and 'A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions'. Next to the desk, on the floor, was an owl cage, complete with dozing snowy, white owl. A trunk over by the window stood open, robes, a caldron, and an amazingly designed broom were sticking out of it. And, strewn all around, were dozens of letters and newspaper articles, some even featuring the room's occupant on the cover. But Harry was too deep in thought again to care.  
  
He was remembering the Department of Mysteries again. The room that would haunt his nightmares, the room where his godfather, Sirius Black, was murdered.  
  
He couldn't forget about it. He didn't even cry over it. He hadn't really cried since he was four years old and his Uncle Vernon yelled at him. He wasn't about to restart now. But he could still blame himself.  
  
Harry told himself it wasn't his fault. Dumbeldore told his it wasn't his fault - though, as Harry was still not speaking to the professor, his word didn't hold much water. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Lupin, Moody, Mundungus, Tonks, all of the rest of the Weasleys, even, Luna Lovegood had told him it hadn't been his fault, too. Harry's eyes strayed over to the pile of letters at the foot of his bed. He had only been home three days and already he had received more mail then all of his other summer breaks combined.  
  
And, as expected, on the threats his friends had given the Dursleys, his aunt, uncle, and cousin had been treating him surprisingly nice (so far). Harry could eat what ever he wanted, as much as he wanted. Nobody bothered him to do chores. It was the best that the people of 4 Privet Drive had ever treated him.  
  
But this really didn't cheer Harry up. No matter what he did, he couldn't get the events of last year out of his head. The way Sirius's face look as he was falling through that mysterious arc: laughter mixed with surprise. The memory of detentions with Professor Umbridge, possessions by Voldemort, new revelations about his father, and how wonderful it felt to attack Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
Bellatrix had murdered Sirius. Harry, in a fit of furious revenge, had ran after her when she tried to escape. And he had cast, or at least tried to cast, the Cruciatus on her.  
  
That was one of the things Harry felt the most regret for doing. He had sunken to the level of a Death Eater - of Voldemort. He had caused another living thing pain and enjoyed it.  
  
'She killed Sirius,' Harry always argued with himself. 'She deserves everything she got.' But then that nasty little voice in the back of his head would pipe up and return with, 'Yes, but according to Voldemort, every person he kills deserves it - even if it's just for being what they are.' Harry couldn't deny that.  
  
It also didn't help he had more important matters to put his mind on. Like the prophecy, 'Neither can live while the other survives'. Harry would have to defeat Voldemort, he had always known that. Only now was the first time it really sunk in. To see it in writing like that....  
  
Harry turned over as an owl with the Daily Prophet soared through his open window, followed by several more. This didn't shock him - almost everyday there was a mention of Harry in the newspaper (probably to make up for all the trouble it had caused him before) and he would receive letters upon letters from magical people around the world.  
  
He went over, took the paper, and payed the owl. Harry glanced at the head line and started.  
  
"PETER PETTIGREW ALIVE? SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT?"  
  
Harry looked at the picture below the caption. It was one of him, Sirius, and Lupin at number 12, Grimmauld Place that had been taken over the Christmas break. Sirius was sitting in an old chair against a dark green wall and he had his arm around Harry. Lupin stood in back with a hand on one of each of their shoulders. The three of them were laughing. Harry quickly scanned the picture, making sure that no one could figure out where they were, and found none. He sighed in relief - it would be dangerous to the Order if a Death Eater found out where they were staying.  
  
He skimmed the article. It detailed a small attack on a Muggle village outside of London and the capture of several Death Eaters, including one Peter Pettigrew. But, at the end ....  
  
'The Ministry promptly cleared Mr. Black of all charges, only to learn of his death a week prior.  
  
'Mr. Black's assets (totaling 4.7 million Galleons, along with several different properties) will be split evenly between his best friend, Remus Lupin, and his godson, Harry Potter, both of whom were aware of his innocence.  
  
'The story of Sirius Black should always be remembered. It is a sad time when the magical world makes such a horrible mistake, ruining the life of an honest, fun-loving man.  
  
'Our hearts are with Mr. Black, wherever he is now, and with his friends and family. May this story have as happy of an ending as it can.'  
  
Pettigrew was caught only a week after Sirius died.  
  
'How ironic.'  
  
Harry broke down in laughter on the floor. He laughed until he cried.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
* = I think I made this word up. If anyone can tell me if this is a real word or not, leave it in a review please. 


	2. 2 Stay Inside The Lines

A/N: Yesterday I said I was only going to update once a week. Guess I lied as I'm uploading the next two chapters today. I'm not patient enough to wait.  
  
CH2: Stay Inside The Lines  
  
"'Welcome to the real world',  
  
She said to me condescendingly,  
  
'Take a seat, take your life,  
  
Plot it out in black and white'.  
  
Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings,  
  
And the drama queens,  
  
I'd like to think the best of me,  
  
Is still hiding up my sleeve.  
  
They love to tell you 'stay inside the lines',  
  
But something's better on the other side."  
  
June 30, 1996  
  
A few days later, a brown barn-owl swooped into Harry's open window.  
  
^Dear Harry,  
  
How are you? Foolish question to ask. I know you are still blaming yourself for Sirius' death, but, as I told you before, the blame lies with me.  
  
I should have told you about the Prophecy years ago. I realize that you are mad at me, so I have no right to ask of you what I am about to.  
  
Harry, I am asking you to continue your Occulumency lessons over this Summer break. We have acquired intelligence that Voldemort will be trying to break into your head agin and it is imperative, now more so than ever, that he does not gain access to your thoughts. I hope I have your full cooperation in this.  
  
Remus Lupin will be stopping by Mrs. Figg's house at noon tomorrow for your first lesson.  
  
Sincerely sorry,  
  
Albus Dumbledore^  
  
'"It is imperative that Voldemort does not gain access to your thoughts." Why? Why now more than before? Is it the same reasons as last time? Or something new? Why won't he tell me these things?  
  
'I'm sick of him treating me like I'm a child. Of everyone treating me like a child. I am not a child. I've never been a child. I lost my childhood the minute he sent me to the Dursleys.  
  
'And way should I even listen to him anyway? If he wanted me to trust him, why didn't he trust me enough to tell me the Prophecy? The one that will decide my whole future? I doubt something like that just slipped his mind .... '  
  
Harry's thoughts continued along the same train until he drifted off to sleep.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
July 1, 1996  
  
Harry Potter woke up and rolled out of bed. In barefeet, he padded across the room to find some clothes. He rummaged around the bottom of his wardrobe, picking out some jeans and a shirt, and stood up. His head smacked straight into the self.  
  
"What the - " Harry rubbed the spot where his head hit. 'I'm sure that self was higher yesterday.'  
  
Looking around the room, he noticed everything was lower. 'Huh? This has got to be some kind of practical joke .... maybe Fred and George came .... what is going on?'  
  
He quickly turned to the mirror and clapped a hand to his mouth.  
  
Harry was taller. Not just taller, but 5'7'', a full 5 inches taller than he had been the day before. And his hair ... his hair had grown down to middle of his neck.  
  
"How the hell .... what .... huh?" he stuttered.  
  
'What is going on?'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Ah, Harry, Come in," greeted Mrs. Figg. "Make yourself at home. I'll go get Lupin."  
  
Harry gazed around the room. It hadn't changed much: still old fashioned and smelling of cats and cabbage. He sat on the couch patiently until Professor Lupin came into the room.  
  
"How are you, Harry?" his former - and now current - teacher asked.  
  
"Good, Professor. You?"  
  
"I'm not your professor anymore, you can call me Remus. And I'm fine. Now, we -" He did a double take. "Did you grow? And you're hair...."  
  
"You noticed, too? Here I was, thinking I was going nuts, not knowing how tall I was," Harry said casually, while Remus kept blinking at him.  
  
"You're taller than you were when I saw you at the train station."  
  
"I'm taller than I was yesterday."  
  
"How much taller?"  
  
"Er, about five inches I think."  
  
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Weird."  
  
"You don't know what's going on?"  
  
"Not a clue. I'll have to check my books when I get home ... maybe it's some sort of magical growth spurt ... I don't know what to tell you."  
  
"Alright," Harry asked after a few minutes of silence. "Er ... what do we do now?"  
  
"Right!" Remus snapped out of his pondering. "Occulumency. What did Snape teach you last year?"  
  
"I'm not sure really. He just said to focus on clearing my mind and try to block his mental attacks ... "  
  
"Wait, that's it? He didn't tell you the basics, the dynamics, theories, how to block out intrusions ... ?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"No wonder you didn't learn anything! He didn't he didn't even try to teach you!" he exclaimed angrily.  
  
"He - huh - what?!?"  
  
"I guess we've got to start at the beginning."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Are you sure you're ready for this, Harry?" Remus asked, preparing to enter Harry's mind.  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
They had just gone over the entire history of Occulumency and it made a lot more sense than last year.  
  
He was going to kill Snape when he saw him.  
  
"Remember, you can feel the probing at the edge of your mind. Key in on it. Focus your thoughts on it. Then force it out. Repel it." Remus raised his wand. "Legilimens!"  
  
Harry was in the ocean. A deep, rolling, black ocean. He spun around - there was nothing. Then, a light appeared in the darkness, speeding straight towards him. He was mesmerized by it, drifting off into the brightness, floating, entranced by the pure energy of it ... before he realized it was going to hit him. He brought his hands up to block it and ....  
  
..... found himself back on Mrs. Figg's living room floor.  
  
He looked up at Remus. "Was that - did I - "  
  
"You did it, Harry!" Remus beamed. "You've got it!"  
  
"Yes!" He jumped up and did a little victory dance. "That was great!"  
  
"I told you that you could do it if you put your mind to it. You've got a long ways to go, but soon you might be able to do it without thinking at all. And remember," he added. "This only to protect your mind from being manipulated. There's no guaranteed that you won't sometimes enter the Dark Lord's mind."  
  
"It was just like fighting the Imperious Curse. There's no way Voldemort's getting into my mind." Harry couldn't stop grinning. Finally, he'd be free.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Harry. Same time."  
  
"See you, Remus. Oh!" he remembered. "You're going to look up this weird growth spurt, right?"  
  
Remus had a sudden idea. "You really look like a whole new person, Harry."  
  
"Your point?"  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said again, enigmatically.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry practically skipped back into 4 Privet Drive, clearly on a success- high. He even cheerfully waved to his aunt, who just gaped at him.  
  
"What happened to you?"  
  
"Oh, you mean you don't like my new look?" he asked sweetly.  
  
"No," she said bluntly. "What did you do?"  
  
"Nothing. I think it might be some sort of 'magical' phenomenon." He reveled in Petunia's expression. "I'll be up in my room if you need me. 'Night."  
  
'Actually,' he later thought. 'This wasn't such a bad day after all.'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
July 2, 1996  
  
"Hello, Remus," Harry greeted as he went back for his second lesson.  
  
"Don't get too comfortable, we're not staying long," said Remus.  
  
"Why not? I mean, there are still tons of things I need to lear - "  
  
"Later, Harry. You did really well yesterday. So, we're going on a field trip!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"The Mall?" asked Harry dubiously. "This is our 'field trip'?"  
  
"I told you," Remus said as he steered Harry through the doors. "You look different."  
  
"So?"  
  
"And wouldn't it be nice to walk to walk down Diagon Alley and have nobody pointing at you? Total anonymity?"  
  
"You think we could - "  
  
"Yup. With a few finishing touches, only people who know you will be able to recognize you. Trust me."  
  
"Remus," Harry began. "Have I ever told you that you are my favorite person in the whole world?"  
  
"I know. I know."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Thank you," Harry said for the millionth time that day. He was a totally new person. His hair had been cut a bit shorter than normal, making it a bit less messy; he had clothes that actually fit; and add on a Muggle invention called contact lenses .... "This is one of the best things anyone has ever done for me."  
  
"And for the piece de la resistance .... this." Remus whipped out a dark faded blue sporting cap, with a black Puddlemere United Quidditch logo on it - his favorite team.  
  
"You're the best!" He happily pulled the cap onto his head - it effectively covered his scar. "This is great, Remus, but you shouldn't have spent so much money on me."  
  
"It's no problem, Harry. Sirius - " He stopped abruptly. "I have the money now. Um, I'll see you in a few days for your next lesson."  
  
"Why won't you be here tomorrow?" Harry asked, still uncomfortable at the subject change.  
  
"Full moon."  
  
"Oh. Okay, I'll see you then."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
'I wonder who they'll send now?' Harry thought as he walked back to his aunt and uncle's house. 'It doesn't matter really as long as it's not - '  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
July 3, 1996  
  
"Get in here quickly, Potter!" Snape barked when Harry came up the walkway. "The sooner we finish with this, the faster I can get out of here!"  
  
Harry groaned inwardly. 'What did I do to deserve this?'  
  
As soon as he entered the door, Snape pounced.  
  
"Legilimens!"  
  
The water was back again. The energy came for him - glowing .... a bright green. He flashed back to the night his parents died. This time, Harry didn't hesitate in pushing back the light.  
  
And Snape was the one on the floor.  
  
"What was that?" he breathed.  
  
"What do you mean, sir?" he added the last bit condescendingly.  
  
"That feeling. When I hit your block I felt something. What were you imagining?" Snape's breathing was ragged, like he had just run ten miles.  
  
"Well, I do have a pretty unique memory of being hit by the Killing Curse."  
  
The professor paled. "Where did you learn to do that?" he demanded.  
  
"It helps when you have a good teacher," Harry answered, not mentioning the fact that he had never done that before. "Remus actually taught me things."  
  
If Harry was not mistaken, Snape turned red this time. "You will talk to me with respect, you little - "  
  
"Frankly, I don't care what you think I am."  
  
"I think," he practically shouted, "that you are arrogant egotistical prat, Potter. Just like your father. I don't care if you think you are better than everyone else. You're not. You have been held up on a pedestal by the world, basking in their attention, and you have been dotted on by your relatives, spoiled to the core. But it all ends in here. To me you will always just be a stupid boy."  
  
And Harry just snapped. "Is that what you think? Well then, let me clue you in, Professor. I spent my childhood in a cupboard. There were four rooms in my relatives house, but I didn't get one of them. I was stuffed into the cupboard and forgotten. I never got enough food. Before my second year here, they tried to lock me in a room and starve me to death. They despise me. I - I never knew love. Just pain." He raved on, not caring what he was saying anymore.  
  
"My cousin, Dudley, got whatever he wanted. While they used me as cheap manual labor, he sat on his arse all day, watching TV. You want to talk about a spoiled child? Go visit him. He had mountains of toys and games, and all of his parents attention. They thought he was an angel - the most perfect child on Earth.  
  
"He wasn't  
  
"He and his friends use to beat me up. Do you know why I can escape so well? Haven't you ever wondered? Because I had to learn it or else they'd.....  
  
He was getting hysterical. "Have you ever wondered why I'm so protective of my friends? It's because I've never had any before. Dudley use to scare away everyone who even tried to get close to me.  
  
"I didn't even know about my parents until was eleven. My aunt told me they died in a car crash. I never even knew what they looked like.  
  
"I do now. Whenever there is a Dementor nearby, I can hear them. Right before Voldemort murdered them. My mother died protecting me. Did you know that? She died pleading for my fucking life.  
  
"Anyway, then Hagrid showed up. I was overjoyed that I would finally get out of there. But I was shoved into the position of a hero for something I barely even remembered.  
  
"Now, I have the entire world following my every move, waiting for me to screw up. I have an evil wizard trying to kill me and everyone that I care about.  
  
"And even though my life is a living hell, it's still better than it was before.  
  
"So, is that what you wanted to hear, Professor? I'm sorry I broke your image of the Golden Boy of Gryffindor. It must have thrown your whole life off balance to know that you have no real reason to hate me as you do. Well, other than a grudge against my father. Something that I didn't even do and don't agree with.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to go through with that. I know what it's like.  
  
"But life isn't always fair."  
  
Harry started out the door, but stopped at Snape's insistent stuttering.  
  
"What - How - Don't walk away from me after .... after doing that!" He was trembling in anger, but Harry just glared back.  
  
"I never did anything to you, Professor."  
  
Snape composed himself, not wanting to lose to a Potter. "It was more the fact that you were born."  
  
"Think about who you just sounded like and then give me an answer." He stomped out of the house.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
'That arsehole, thinking he's better than everyone because he's gone through hardships. He thinks he's got a right to treat the entire world like dirt because he's hurting. Everyone has got problems. He's so self- centered....' Harry was back in his room, pacing again about the stupidity of people he knew.  
  
'Okay, maybe I shouldn't have gone off on him like that, but seriously ... I've had enough. He's got no right to treat me that way. Me or anyone else. Someone had to tell him that.  
  
'You know, I'm sick of everyone right now. Dumbledore's keeping things from me, Snape is acting like a prat, Remus is trying to forget about Sirius .... is everyone in the magical world nuts?' 


	3. 3 Call It Insane

A/N: This is the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life. Over twenty pages! Hope you guys enjoy it!  
  
CH3: Call It Insane  
  
"Drove Downtown in the rain,  
  
9:30 on a Tuesday night,  
  
Just to check out the late night,  
  
Record shop.  
  
Call it compulsive, call it impulsive,  
  
Call it insane.  
  
When I'm surrounded I just can't stop.  
  
It's a matter of instincts, a matter of conditioning,  
  
And a matter-of-fact."  
  
July 4, 1996  
  
Harry sat on his bed, brooding as usual, and skimming through the Daily Prophet. A bright yellow advertisement caught his eye. Weasley Wizard Wheezes.  
  
'Looks like their shop is going well,' he thought. 'Wish I could go up there and check it out.' He sighed dejectedly. 'But there is no way Dumbledore will let me out of my cell. At least, not without a whole army surrounding me. And never to Diagon Alley ....  
  
'You'd think that, after last year, he'd learn that locking me up is not the way to do things! Half of the problems last year could have been solved if he would just tell me what I needed to know. If I had known about the prophecy, I would have known about the door ....  
  
'There were so many important moments. If I'd opened the package with mirror on it. If Snape hadn't taught me Occulmency at all. Or if I even practiced what Snape told me. If I hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries .....  
  
'A world of "if's", but it makes no difference. What was done is done. If I could go back in time .....  
  
'But I can't. The past is behind me. The best thing now is to stop looking over my shoulder. It's time to forget the past and look to the present and future.  
  
'I can't let them control me anymore. I won't. Not Voldemort, the Order, my friends, and especially not Dumbledore.  
  
'I'm not going to lay around and wait. It's time to take action. This is my fight and I intend to fight to the end.'  
  
Harry looked down at the flyer he was holding and smirked.  
  
'And I think I know how to start.'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Congratulations on your remarkable progress in Occulmency. I always suspected you would succeed at it. I believe Occulmency and Legilimens were some of the powers Voldemort accidently transferred to you all those years ago.  
  
Unfortunately, Remus has a mission to go on and will be unable to continue instructing you. I would have Severus teach you again, but judging by your .... interesting lesson with him the other day, I believe that would not be the best course of action.  
  
Enclosed is a book on Occulmency that I think you will find fascinating. I ask for you to keep studying by yourself until your classes can be arranged.  
  
If this in not what you wish, the other option is for me to come out there and teach you myself.  
  
Write me back with your answer,  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
PS - In dire cases, if the nightmares get too bad, I am enclosing a bottle of dreamless sleep potion. Use it with precaution, too much will become addictive.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dumbledore,  
  
I'll take my chances with the book.  
  
Harry Potter  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
July 5, 1996 Harry strolled along Privet Drive, aware of the footsteps that followed him. It was Mundungus Fletcher. He was the only one who walked that slowly. And the steps weren't even: he'd always take bigger steps with his right than his left ....  
  
Harry made a mental check.  
  
'Afternoons from noon to four - Mundungus on duty.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
July 6, 1996  
  
The Order of the Phoenix was worried.  
  
Not a huge Voldemort-is-taking-over-the-world-run-for-your-life type of worried.  
  
But something was up with Harry.  
  
He had been walking. Just walking. He'd go to one end of his street, then back down, and back again. All day long.  
  
Too say it was odd was an understatement.  
  
A good chunk of the Order was sure the Daily Prophet hadn't been far off the mark: Harry Potter definitely had bats in his belfry.  
  
Others thought he was taking a leaf out of Dumbledore's book.  
  
They weren't sure if that was a good thing or not.  
  
Still others thought it was some weird way to help him get over Sirius' death. And whatever helped him recover from his grief was alright by them.  
  
But the final member .....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mad-Eye Moody watched his ward carefully as he absentmindedly wandered around.  
  
No, Moody knew he wasn't dealing with a nutcase or some devastated child. He had met enough Slytherin minds to tell when he was faced with one.  
  
The fact that it was in a powerful teenager just made him all the more worried.  
  
"What are you up to, Potter," he whispered to himself. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
July 7, 1996  
  
Harry packed up a picnic basket and headed out the door of Privet Drive, mumbling a good-bye to his aunt. It was time to put his plan into action.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Watch him like a hawk, Mundungus," Moody warned as he prepared to Apparate away.  
  
"You're over-reacting, Mad-Eye," chuckled Dung. "He's just eating lunch."  
  
"Right. But don't say I didn't warn you." With one last look over at Harry, he disappeared.  
  
"Paranoid old man."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Hey Dung," greeted Harry. He smirked as he heard Mundungus' muttered curses at being found out. "Want to sit down?"  
  
"I'm on the job, Harry," came the reply.  
  
"Come on, you've been working for awhile now." Nothing. "We could play a little poker .... "  
  
The magical words. "Poker?"  
  
'Jackpot!' Harry inwardly cheered. "Yeah, poker. A nice betting game between friends."  
  
"I - I really shouldn't."  
  
"I got the cards right here. Don't make a production."  
  
"Alright, we'll play a little. It'll relax me."  
  
"You won't regret this."  
  
Dung's eyes glittered eagerly as Harry dealt out the cards. "So what are we playing for?"  
  
"Whatcha got?"  
  
"Er .... about two Galleons."  
  
"Two Galleons it is then."  
  
"Deuces wild?"  
  
"Sure. Here - have some chips. Something to drink too, if you want."  
  
"Don't mind if I do," Dung replied, munching happily on the food and guzzling down a water. "You know, we should do this more often."  
  
"Whatever you say, Dung. Go ahea - " Mundungus hit the ground with a thud. "Wow, that worked fast. Too bad, I got three aces. Oh well." He sighed and recovered Dung with the Invisibility Cloak, dragging him out of the way of Muggle foot traffic.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry smiled as the Muggle bus dropped him off a block from the Leaky Cauldron. It had been ages since he had been to Diagon Alley and he was reveling in going back now.  
  
He adjusted his Puddlemere United cap so his scar was totally hidden. 'Total anonymity,' Remus had said.  
  
And Harry wanted just that.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry took a deep breath. 'Just blend in.' He pushed his way into the Leaky Cauldron ....  
  
.... and was met by a wand in his face and a man stating to shout a hex.  
  
Reacting instinctively, Harry ducked his head to avoid the beam of light, kicked out the man's kegs, and whipped out his wand. Within seconds, he had the man pinned to the floor with his foot, disarmed, and at the mercy of his own wand, as well as Harry's.  
  
"What was that for?!?" Harry asked.  
  
"I - I thought you was a Deaf Ear," the man slurred.  
  
"Deaf Ear - ?" The it clicked. "A Death Eater? Are you drunk?" he laughed. No evil assassins, no death threats - just a paranoid tipsy man with a wand.  
  
"Ma'be a li'l."  
  
"What's going on in - ?" Tom stopped short at the sight before him and stared at the man on the ground.  
  
"Do your patrons regularly hex customers when they come in?" questioned Harry. Tom looked up. When he saw who was speaking, he had to repress a smile. Harry had gotten to know Tom during the summer before his third year and knew of the man's sense of humor: if anyone would find the irony in this situation, it would be Tom.  
  
"Depends on if they are shady characters or not."  
  
Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Do shady characters usually wear sporting caps?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Oh, I guess that makes me a shady character." He let the 'attacker' up and moved towards the bar.  
  
"The shadiest," Tom nodded.  
  
"Good to know."  
  
"I haven't seen you around in a while," he said while he got Harry a Butterbeer. Harry nodded his thanks.  
  
"Well, I figured if I came last year, the welcome would have been even worse than this one was."  
  
Tom broke into a grin that Harry returned. "It's good to see you, Harry."  
  
"You too, Tom."  
  
"So what brings you here?" he asked as Harry sat down.  
  
"Do I need an excuse to enjoy the fine qualities of the Leaky Cauldron food substances?"  
  
Tom snorted. "Yes."  
  
"Shopping."  
  
"By yourself?"  
  
"I will be sixteen at the end of the month."  
  
"But what about everything that's going on with .... "  
  
"Voldemort?" Harry asked. The room flinched.  
  
"Don't say his name!"  
  
"Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself."  
  
"Fine." Tom rolled his eyes. "But aren't you afraid that He is going to attack you?"  
  
"If He's going to attack me anyway, I might as well go where I want to."  
  
"I don't see Dumbledore letting you do that."  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
The bartender dropped the glass he was holding. "You snuck out?!?"  
  
"Technically, no. The Dursleys knew I was leaving."  
  
"Yes, but the Dursleys don't care what you do. No offense," he added.  
  
"None taken."  
  
"Does your guard know you left by yourself?"  
  
"How do you know I have a guard?"  
  
"The most evil wizard in years wants your head on a platter. Of course you have a guard."  
  
"Maybe someone just forgot to inform them of my plans," Harry shrugged.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"I was bored."  
  
"Are you going to come here every boring afternoon?"  
  
"Actually, I was bored this morning, but I had to wait until Mad-Eye was off duty. He's really hard to sneak past."  
  
"Mad-Eye Moody?"  
  
"The very same."  
  
"He's going to be thrilled when he finds out," Tom said sarcastically.  
  
"He might be. You can never tell with Moody," Harry pointed out.  
  
"You do realize how dangerous this is, don't you?"  
  
"It's not really that dangerous."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"If I managed to sneak past the guard, I probably got past any Death Eaters that are watching my house. If they even know where I live. And, what are the chances that someone is waiting for me here. Nobody even knew I was coming out here today. So it's pretty safe," he explained.  
  
Tom held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, you win. But you do realize that Dumbledore won't be very happy when he finds out?"  
  
"I don't really care what Dumbledore thinks," Harry growled.  
  
"I thought you two were really close?"  
  
"So did I."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I just can't trust him any more. Anyway, I really should get going, I don't have a lot of time. Have a good day, Tom." He started moving towards the door.  
  
"Likewise. Enjoy your shopping, Potter."  
  
"I will, thanks."  
  
Harry turned back one last time and looked at the person who tried to curse him. "Sorry about flipping you over like that, I just wasn't expecting anyone to be pointing a wand at me."  
  
The man stared on in shock as Harry entered the back alleyway.  
  
'So much for blending in,' he smirked.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Going through the archway, Harry was met with the sights, sounds, and smells that were Diagon Alley. But one sound stood out above all others. A slight whimpering was coming from his left.  
  
Harry looked down and saw a small girl with curly brown hair crying into her knees. He bent down to eye level with her.  
  
"Hey, are you all right?"  
  
The girl looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I - I'm lost."  
  
"Don't cry, it'll be alright," he said soothingly. "What's your name?"  
  
"Kerrie Wood."  
  
"Are you related to Oliver?"  
  
"He's my brother. We were shopping and ..... I don't know where he went."  
  
"Well, we'll just have to look for him then."  
  
"You know Ollie?"  
  
Harry smiled slightly at the name and nodded. "I played Quidditch with him at Hogwarts. My name's Harry, by the way."  
  
"The - the Seeker Harry?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Wow! I want to be a Seeker, too!"  
  
"How old are you, Kerrie?"  
  
"Six and one half."  
  
"Six and one half, huh? You have a ways off to go, but I'm sure you'll be a great Seeker when you get to Hogwarts. The best they've ever seen."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really. Now let's go find Oliver."  
  
He held out his hand for Kerrie to take, but she ignored it and wrapped her arms around his neck. Startled, Harry picked the girl up and they set off down the road.  
  
"Let's see, where do you think he'll be?"  
  
She scrunched up her face in concentration. "Quidditch store."  
  
"Quality Quidditch Supplies?" 'Not surprising,' Harry thought.  
  
Kerrie nodded. "Mummy says he'd live there if they set up a bed in the back room," she replied matter-of-fact.  
  
Harry chuckled. "Then to the Quidditch shop!" He broke into a gallop and Kerrie giggled, making whooshing sounds as if soaring through the air.  
  
As they reached the shop, they found a crowd growing outside, a frantic Oliver Wood in the middle, asking if anyone had seen his sister.  
  
He motioned with his hand. "She's about that tall. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Has - " Harry cut him off by clearing his throat.  
  
"Loose something, Oliver?"  
  
Wood whipped around and sighed in relief as Harry and Kerrie broke through the crowd.  
  
"Kerrie! Where'd you go?!? I was so worried! I - " He stopped. He had tried to take Kerrie back, but she wouldn't budge.  
  
"No. I wanna stay with Harry now."  
  
"What - ?"  
  
"My Harry." She hugged him tighter and Harry sat the two of them down on a bench.  
  
"Ker, I'd love to keep you, but .... " He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "I'm not allowed to get another pet." Kerrie giggled, but didn't let go.  
  
"If you want her, you can have her," Oliver offered, already getting over his panic. "She's a little brat most of the time."  
  
"I'm not a brat!" Oliver snorted. "Harry says I'm gonna be the best Seeker at Hogwarts ever."  
  
"Seeker? I thought you wanted to be a Keeper?"  
  
"Now I wanna be a Seeker. Like Harry."  
  
Oliver put on a mock-glare. "You've corrupted my sister!"  
  
"Me? Corrupt?" Harry asked innocently. "Never."  
  
"That's what they all say, Potter. That's what they all say." The name caught the attention of more than one shopper in the Alley. Harry inwardly groaned.  
  
"Can we go get ice cream now?" Kerrie asked.  
  
"It's not my responsibility anymore. Ask Harry."  
  
"But, Ollie, you promised."  
  
Harry put on his puppy dog face. "Come on, Ollie."  
  
Oliver glared at him, but relented. "Fine. But if Mum asks, we did not have ice cream for lunch, got it?"  
  
Kerrie nodded happily and squealed when she and Harry stood up. "I'm the tallest girl in all of Diagon Alley!"  
  
Harry grinned. "You're the Princess of the Alley."  
  
"That makes you my Knight."  
  
"And what is our dear Ollie?"  
  
"The Jester!"  
  
Harry burst out laughing and Oliver let out an indignant "Hey!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Eenie, Meenie, Minee, Moe!" Kerrie pointed to some of the thousand different names on the sign, trying to decide which flavor to get. "That one!" Unfortunately, she was pointing to the words 'A sickle a scoop'.  
  
"That's not an ice cream flavor, Kerrie," pointed out Oliver.  
  
"It should be!"  
  
"I'll look into that," said a voice behind them.  
  
"Mr Fortescue!" Harry exclaimed. "How are you?"  
  
"How many times must I ask you to call me Florean, Harry," he smiled.  
  
"At least once more," he answered automatically*.  
  
He chuckled. "Who are your friends?"  
  
"This is Oliver Wood and his sister, Princess Kerrie."  
  
"Ruler of Diagon Alley and Future Seeker," added Oliver.  
  
"Princess of the Alley? Well, then I must insist you get your ice cream for free."  
  
Harry sighed. "We can easily pay for this - "  
  
Florean cut him off. "Every time you come here, Harry, we go through the same thing. You'd think you would learn that you can't win by now."  
  
"Yet you keep insisting that I call you by your first name."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "I give up. But you're still getting free ice cream. Have you decided, Princess?"  
  
"I want this kind and this kind and this kind."  
  
"Pumpkin Peel, Mint Tapioca, and Banana Bread?"  
  
"Sounds appetizing," Oliver said sarcastically.  
  
"What about you, Harry?" she asked.  
  
"Hmmmm, I can't decide. What do you think?" he asked Kerrie.  
  
I think you should get this one and those two and that one. Oh, and that one!"  
  
Florean marked the new names down on a pad of paper. "Blueberry, Pineapple, Carmel, Cherry Cream, and Waffle."  
  
"You have waffle flavored ice cream?" Harry asked in amazement.  
  
"We have every kind."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"I think I'll just stick to Chocolate," said Oliver.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry watched Kerrie fondly as she got orange smears all over her face.  
  
'I wonder if I'd have any brothers or sisters if my parents were never killed. Guess I'll never find out. Still, it might've been nice ..... '  
  
Harry was shook out of his musings by a distant clock striking one.  
  
"Oh no! We're supposed to be home by now! Come on, Kerrie!" Oliver hastily tried to clean his sister up to no avail. "I'll see you around, Harry."  
  
"Bye!" Kerrie called over Oliver's shoulder as they headed towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry waved.  
  
"Bye, Princess!"  
  
Harry got up, left some money on the table (knowing Florean was never going to take his money directly) and headed towards Gringotts. He had work to do.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Hi, I'd like to take some money out of my vault."  
  
"Name," the Goblin asked, clearly bored with the proceedings.  
  
"Harry Potter." At the name, the Goblin piped up a bit more and heads all down the counter (wizard and goblin alike) turned to look at him. Harry gritted his teeth. He wished people would stop doing that.  
  
The Goblin didn't take his eyes from Harry's forehead. "Do you have your key, sir?" he asked politely, with a smile that looked strange on his narrow face.  
  
Harry pulled the small gold key from his pocket and placed it on the counter, slightly puzzled by the teller's abrupt change in demeanor. The Goblin inspected it closely before hailing another goblin over.  
  
"Gaklav! Please escort Mr. Potter to his vault. Oh, and explain to him the new ..... additions."  
  
Gaklav eyes widened and he looked awfully smug with himself.  
  
Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know why.  
  
"What new 'additions'?" he questioned cautiously.  
  
"You'll see."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A cart ride later found Harry and Gaklav in the bowels of Gringotts.  
  
"Here we are, Vault 529," Gaklav declared. "Go on, have a look."  
  
Harry slowly made his way up to the door and turned the key. Once the familiar green smoke had cleared, he saw ......  
  
Gold. Mountains and mountains of Galleons. More money then he had ever seen in his entire life.  
  
"What the - " Harry gasped. "Where'd all this come from?"  
  
"Your inheritance of course."  
  
Then he remembered. 'Mr. Black's assets' ..... '4.7 million Galleons' ........ 'split evenly' ...... 'his godson, Harry Potter'.  
  
Swallowing the lump that appeared in his throat, he realized Gaklav was still talking. "..... with the money Mr. Black left you, you're one of the richest men in Great Britain!"  
  
Harry surveyed his surroundings. No wonder the goblins had been treating him so well. He tried to keep his voice calm as he addressed Gaklav, not wanting to let anyone see the pain even the mention of Sirius' name brought him. "What are those?" he asked, motioning to a couple dark, black trunks piled by the wall.  
  
"Some family heirlooms."  
  
"Could someone come down and check these out? The Blacks aren't exactly known for having the most ... savory items lying around."  
  
Gaklav nodded. "I'll get one of our Curse Breakers down here right away." He took a small, silver whistle out of a pocket and blew into it. Although it didn't make a sound, it must have done something. A cart arrived within minutes, several people aboard.  
  
But it was the red-headed one that made Harry groan.  
  
"You're not supposed to be here, Harry," said Bill Weasley, as he climbed out of the cart.  
  
"Er ... " Harry began.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Thiiiiis is alllllll a dreeeeeam," he said, in a voice eerily reminiscent of Professor Trelawney.  
  
Bill snorted. "Nice try."  
  
"Couldn't you have selective memory?" Harry suggested. "Forget you ever saw me?"  
  
"Now why would I do that?"  
  
A wicked smirk spread across Harry's face. "'Cause if you don't, I might just forget not to tell your mother what Fred told me last August. About you and Fleur in your office. Involving your wand - "  
  
A red faced Bill cast a Silencing Charm on Harry, but not before his companions heard. Thus, the cave filled with laughter. Harry even saw Fleur in the cart, suppressing a smirk.  
  
"What happened to the Un-flappable William Weasley?" called out a brown- haired man.  
  
Harry shook with silent laughter and his thoughts wandered to something Professor Flitwick had said in Charms. 'A Silencing Charm is easily breakable if you have the will power to do it. Which is why few wizards resort to using it in battles, to stop their opponents from saying spells.'  
  
'I broke through the Imperious Curse', Harry thought. 'So why not this.'  
  
Concentrating, he motioned Bill closer to him.  
  
"Something to say, Harry?" Bill mocked. "What? I can't hear you? Speak up."  
  
He felt something snap in his mind. Bingo. "DON'T EVER HEX ME, WEASLEY!" Harry shouted into Bill's ear, causing him to fall backwards, and stare up at the black-haired boy with a dazed expression. Harry stuck out his tongue for good measure. "So there!" he said, in a childish voice.  
  
"Ahem." Harry jumped. He'd forgotten that Gaklav was there. "I believe there was something you wanted done?"  
  
"Oh, right," Harry responded, helping Bill up. "The trunks."  
  
"You can go back upstairs, Gaklav. We'll take Harry back up," Bill said, once he was on his feet again. Gaklav looked strangely reluctant, but did take his leave.  
  
A still giggling Fleur came over to them as soon as he was gone. "How are you, Harry?"  
  
"Good," he answered. "You're English is getting a lot better."  
  
"Thank you. I've had a ... good teacher." She stole a look at Bill and Harry suppressed another chuckle.  
  
"Don't say a word, Harry," threatened Bill.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Now why wouldn't I?"  
  
"Fine," he sighed. "I won't tell anyone about you being here."  
  
"I knew you'd see it my way."  
  
"You're lucky I like you."  
  
The brown-haired man spoke up again. "Aren't you gonna introduce us, Bill?"  
  
"Oh yeah. Harry, this is Conner" he motioned to the brown-haired man "Sarah" a girl with black hair "and Pat." A short man with blond hair waved. "Everyone, this is Harry Potter. He's an old friend of the family." The group's eyes flicked upward to Harry's sporting cap. He thanked whatever higher being was listening that he was wearing it. "Now, Harry, what are we doing here?"  
  
"There are some trunks that .... that Sirius left me," he said quietly. "I just want to make sure they're safe to open. After all the stuff we found last year ..... "  
  
"No problem. Just wait out here." He entered the vault leaving the rest alone outside.  
  
"So." Harry turned to Fleur. "How's Gabrielle been?"  
  
"Good. She asked about you," she said with a sly smile.  
  
"What?"  
  
"She's taken quite in interest in reading the papers lately. It's strange considering she swore she'd never read them again last year. I wonder what changed her mind."  
  
Harry felt the heat rise in his face, knowing full well the praise the Daily Prophet had been lathering him with. He never noticed the other three in the room having a quiet conversation of there own.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
SARAH'S-POINT-OF-VIEW  
  
'He's certainly not what I expected', Sarah thought. 'He's just so ...... normal.'  
  
She'd had always thought that Harry Potter was a larger than life being. He'd be kind of a mini-Dumbledore. The whole hero thing.  
  
But this boy was just a teenager.  
  
"That's weird," she heard Pat mumble.  
  
"What is?" Conner asked.  
  
"Look at how he acts around Fleur."  
  
Sarah took a closer look. She had seen Fleur cause men to melt like butter when she walked into the room, but ..... Harry wasn't. He was acting as if she was a normal person.  
  
"Strange."  
  
There definitely was something strange about Harry Potter. But what?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
BACK-TO-HARRY  
  
Harry couldn't help but blush at Fleur teasing that her sister had a crush on him.  
  
"Giving Harry a taste of his own medicine?" Bill chuckled from the entryway of the vault.  
  
"Hahaha," Harry said sarcastically.  
  
"Anyway," Bill continued. "You were right to call us down. Most of those trunks have some kind of curse on them. I'll work on breaking through them later, but it's going to take some time."  
  
"Most?"  
  
"This one doesn't." He handed Harry a small box. "You can open it if you want. It's perfectly safe."  
  
Harry slowly pulled off the cover to find a small flat silver disk. It didn't mean much to him, but it apparently did to everyone else.  
  
"Wow," whispered Pat. "Is that an .... Interpres?"  
  
"Looks like it," answered Bill in awe.  
  
"A what?" Harry asked, puzzled.  
  
"An Interpres, Harry. It ..... well, it's basically a translator. With this, you can understand and speak as many languages as you want."  
  
"Really? How does it work?"  
  
"You put it on."  
  
"Funny. I mean, how can just know the languages?"  
  
"You don't just 'know' them. You have to learn the basics first. The Interpres just makes you remember it automatically."  
  
"There are side effects, though," Fleur warned. "My grandfather had one of those. Every now and then, he'd trail off in a different language and he never even realized he was speaking it."  
  
"Seems like it's worth it," Harry said. he looked at Bill. "So how do you work it?"  
  
"Here." Bill took the disk from the box and pressed it into Harry's temple. "Devincio!"  
  
Harry felt the metal mold into his skin and disappear. "Wicked."  
  
"Wahlah! Anyway, I assume you came down here for money." At Harry's nod, he continued. "Gather some up and then we'll leave."  
  
Harry started back towards the vault door, but stopped abruptly. "Bugger, I forgot my money bag."  
  
"You know, you don't have to carry around a money bag."  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"You could always get a Magicard."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"It's like a Muggle Credit card. Let's go talk to Gaklav about getting you one."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry strolled down Diagon Alley after bidding Bill and his friends good- bye, armed with new purchasing power. This would fit his plans quite nicely.  
  
He stepped into Flourish Blotts, planning on getting his hands on as many Defense books as he could. But something else caught his eye first. Or rather, someone.  
  
Alicia Spinnet, ex-Gryffindor chaser, was ringing up customers at the counter. He smiled wryly to himself. 'Is there a Quidditch convention in town or something?'  
  
"Gavin!" Alicia called out as the last person in line had left. "I'm going on break, okay?" Muffled words answered her from the backroom. She left her post to go browse some books in the corner.  
  
Harry cautiously snuck up behind her and read over her shoulder. "'202 Ways To Make Him Sweat'," Harry said aloud and Alicia jumped. "Never took you for a tease."  
  
Alicia's eyes widened as she realized who was addressing her and she swatted the black haired boy on arm. Harry winced in mock-pain. "Don't scare me like that!"  
  
"My apologies, Lady Licia." Harry swept a deep bow, while Alicia giggled at him. "May I inquire as to what you are doing right now?"  
  
"Talking to you, living, breathing .... "  
  
"As long as it isn't important, would you like to accompany to lunch to make up for the injustice I delivered on you by startling you?" Harry wasn't sure where this all was coming from - it certainly wasn't how he spoke to Cho. But maybe it was because he didn't like Alicia that way .....  
  
"Of course, good sir." She curtseyed. "Just let me - "  
  
"Alicia! Where do you think you are going?" A balding man entered from the door behind the counter.  
  
"Er, - out to lunch, Gavin?"  
  
"Not today you aren't!"  
  
"Sorry, Harry." She sent him an apologetic look.  
  
"No problem," he assured her. "What time do you get off?"  
  
"3:30."  
  
"That's not to long. I'll wait."  
  
"Oh no you won't." Gavin glared at Harry. "No dawdling around my shop."  
  
"I won't be dawdling. I'll be shopping." He wandered into the back sections. "Pay no attention to the man behind the bookcase.**"  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------  
  
* = long running joke between me and my friends. You have no idea how happy it made me to hear it in 'Pirates of the Carribean'.  
  
** = shamelessly stolen and adapted from the 'Wizard of Oz'. 


	4. 3b Comes After 3a

CH3B: The Second Part of Chapter 3 (Great title, huh)  
  
It was a normal day at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around the kitchen, doting on the various Order members present. Her youngest son, Ron, stuffed his face full of food, while his sister wrinkled her nose in disgust. Tonks was making faces across the table at Remus, who was pretending not to laugh as Molly reprimanded her for her immature behavior.  
  
Everything was normal, that is, until Mundungus came bursting into the room.  
  
"Harry - gone - missing," Mundungus managed to get out in between breaths. Instantly, there was an uproar.  
  
"Silence!" Nobody had noticed the Headmaster's arrival, but were relieved all the same. "Mundungus," he instructed carefully. "What happened?"  
  
"Well ... " Mundungus had the grace to look abashed. "He challenged me to a game of cards."  
  
"What?" several voices ran out in disbelief?  
  
"What has that got to do with Harry being in danger!" Molly cried out, emphasizing the word 'danger'.  
  
"I never said he was in danger. Quite the opposite actually. I think he, er, well ...."  
  
"Out with it!"  
  
"I think he escaped."

* * *

"Done!" Alicia exclaimed merrily, slamming the cash register closed. "Done, done, done!" She smiled brightly as she looked at the clock – 3:28.  
  
"Not quite," Gavin pointed out nastily. "You still have one customer left."  
  
"Where?" He pointed at Harry. Alicia groaned.  
  
"Don't worry, 'Licia," said Harry. "I only bought a few things." He dropped a pile of around fifteen books on the desk. Gavin's eyes widened.  
  
"Now, don't think that you get a discount, young man, just because you have a friend working here."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it. Do you take Magicards?"  
  
"Yes, but you can't possibly have the money to pay for all this – "Harry shoved the card into his hands and the man glared at him.  
  
"Be nice, Harry," Alicia whispered as she rang up 'The Terrible Trio – The History of the Unforgivable Curses'. "He's my boss."  
  
"When am I ever anything, but polite?"  
  
Alicia rolled her eyes and began to respond when she was cut off by a choking noise. Gavin's eyes were bugging out of his head and he had turned a pasty shade of white.  
  
"Mr. Po- Potter!" he stuttered. "My deepest apologies, I didn't realize – "  
  
"It's alright." Harry gave him a strained smile and Alicia tried to fight down chuckles.  
  
"That's it, Gavin!" She plucked Harry's Magicard from her boss's hands and jumped over the counter. "See you tomorrow." She and Harry waited until the exited the shop to burst into laughter.  
  
When Alicia had finally calmed down, she said, "So where to? It's kind of late for lunch."  
  
"How about over there," he replied, eyes twinkling. He was pointing to a very gaudy yellow store with a red WWW emblazed on the door.  
  
"Lead the way!"  
  
"After you, 'Licia."  
  
"Why do you call me that?" she asked abruptly.  
  
Harry thought for a moment. Then he answered, a serious look upon his face, "Because I'm too lazy to say the extra letter."  
  
Alicia snorted and shoved him playfully. "Nice try, Ry."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Ry?"  
  
"I'm too lazy to say the extra syllable." She smirked and the entered the Weasley Twins' shop.  
  
The pair stopped, in shock of what they saw.  
  
The shop was upside down!  
  
"Okay, I knew Fred and George were nuts, but this just tops it all!" Alicia exclaimed. "How are customers suppose to get things of the shelves is the shelves are on the ceiling?"  
  
"Actually, I think," Harry began, trying to hold his hat on his head. "That we're on the ceiling."  
  
"Well, well, well," said a voice below them. "Look what we've caught."  
  
Harry strained his neck down to see the face that matched the very familiar voice. "Hello, Fred," he said pleasantly.  
  
Fred didn't answer, choosing to instead turn to a pair of elderly men on his right. "New Topsy-Turvy Traps! And it seems they work perfectly for unsuspecting customers!" The men laughed.  
  
"Fred," Harry tried again. "Remember that time in your 6th year when you got very hammered on Fire Whiskey and – "Fred cut him off as the men broke into chuckles again.  
  
"Let me get you down from there, Harry!" he said brightly. He hit a button on the right side of the door and soon the world was righted, though spinning. As Harry struggled to catch his balance back, Fred addressed the men once more. "Gentlemen, I would like you to meet our first investor and business partner, Mr. Harry Potter. Harry, these are Geoffrey Goldrush and Francis Finacir, potential future investors."  
  
Harry was uncomfortably aware at the pair of them staring at his covered forehead. "It's nice to meet you – "  
  
"Hey! Aren't you going to let me down, too?"

* * *

"That went well, don't you think?" Fred said after seeing Geoffrey and Francis out.  
  
"Since when am I a business partner?" Harry asked.  
  
"Since you gave us that money," answered George, coming up behind them.  
  
"You don't have to do that."  
  
"Too late. Already done."  
  
"Now, can I offer you a tour around your business venture?" question Fred, bowing. "And Miss Spinnet is welcome along, too."  
  
Alicia glared at him. "It'll take a lot more than that to make me forget that you left me stuck up there!"  
  
"I know. But it's a start."

* * *

An hour later, Harry and Alicia left, bogged down with Ton-Tongue-Toffees, Skiving Snack boxes, Topsy-Turvy Traps, and many an item that they had no idea what it did.  
  
Harry walked Alicia back to the bookstore.  
  
"This was fun, Harry," she said as she began to enter the building. "I had a really great time."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Quickly, she kissed him on the cheek. "Bye." And the door closed behind her.

* * *

Harry strolled up Privet Drive, satisfied. He'd had a wonderful day of freedom. He hummed to himself as he opened the front door of Privet Drive.  
  
"You are in big trouble, Harry James Potter." 


	5. 4 This Life Is Overrated

CH4: This Life Is Overrated  
  
**"The miles just keep rollin'  
As the people leave their way to say hello  
I've heard this life is overrated  
But I hope that this gets better as we go."**  
  
_Previous Chapter: Harry strolled up Privet Drive, satisfied. He'd had a wonderful day of freedom. He hummed to himself as he opened the front door of Privet Drive.  
  
"You are in big trouble, Harry James Potter."  
_  
Harry flinched. "Hullo, Remus," he said brightly.  
  
The werewolf just glared at him. "Don't you 'Hullo, Remus' me! What were you thinking?!? You could have been killed!"  
  
"I'm really sorry, Remus, but – "  
  
"Do you have any idea what it was like to find out you were missing? You had me worried sick! I kept imagining all the horrible things that could be happening to you." His voice broke. "I can't loose you too, Harry, not after ... "  
  
Harry felt a horrible surge of guilt wash over him. "I didn't even think about how you'd react – I swear I'm sorry – I didn't mean to make you worry like that."  
  
Remus pulled him into a hug. "I understand that you just wanted some freedom, but please, don't wander off like that again." He released Harry as studied his face. "Where did you go anyway?"  
  
He had the grace to look sheepish. "Diagon Alley."  
  
"Are you telling me that you snuck out of the house, a place that is suppose to be safe-guarded, managed to trick Dung into taking a – what was it?"  
  
"A Dreamless Sleep Potion in his drink."  
  
"Okay, a Dreamless Sleep Potion, somehow traveled to Diagon Alley, and made it back without being caught?" Remus had a strange look on his face.  
  
"Er, yeah?"  
  
The older man broke out into chuckles. "Oh, Harry, you can't imagine how proud Sirius would be right now."  
  
Harry started laughing, too: the first true and genuine laugh he'd had in a long time. Soon, they were both rolling on the floor in hilarity.

"Thanks, Remus," said Harry, wiping his eyes. "I needed that."  
  
"No problem. Not at all."

* * *

July 9, 1996  
  
Two days later found Harry back in the park, sitting on his usual swing. It had been repaired sometime during the last year, but Dudley and his gang had already set about trying to demolish it again. He was contemplating on whether or not to actually get up and do something productive, when a voice behind him interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"Wotcher, Harry. Mind if I join you?"  
  
"Pull up a swing, Tonks."   
  
She smiled at him as she sat down. "I figured I'd just come right out and tell you I was here. I don't fancy waking up in a bush somewhere."  
  
Harry smirked slightly. "How is Dung, by the way?"  
  
"Embarrassed. But you've manage to impress Moody."  
  
"Ah, my life's goal is complete." He regarded her critically. "You're not here to read me the riot act are you? Because I heard it all from Mrs. Weasley via Howler this morning."  
  
"Bet that didn't go over well with your relatives."  
  
"Thankfully, they were out. Some what brings you here for a social visit? I assume you aren't on guard duty since you're lacking the whole Invisibility Cloak and stealth routine."  
  
She blew air through her teeth and seemed to pause before speaking. "How has your summer been going?"  
  
"Slightly less dreadful than one of Binns' lectures. But you're avoiding the subject."  
  
"Look," she began abruptly. "I'm not very good at this. I know that. But I also know you need someone to talk to. And I had hoped I could help."  
  
Harry looked startled. "I – "  
  
"Let me finish." Tonks took a deep breath. "I don't know what it's like to not have family, so I can't understand you. I'm not even going to try. You've had enough of that. What I can do is try to fill the empty spot you have ... to be your family. The Blacks and the Potters are actually distantly related ... most pureblood families are, but ... And Sirius was my mother's cousin. That makes us, like, god-second cousins! So, I just want you to know, I'll be here if you need me."  
  
Harry was silent for a minute. "Thank you."  
  
"Hey, it's no problem, kiddo," she said awkwardly.  
  
"No, it's a big thing. To me, at least. You don't know how many times I wished for family. I used to dream that someone would come for me and I'd find out that I wasn't the only Potter ... I'd have parents, brothers, sisters, grandparents ... So, thank you."  
  
"I always wanted siblings when I was growing up too." She sat up straighter and continued humorously. "So, Harry, would you like to be my little brother?"  
  
"I'd be honored," he chuckled. "But, you know, it's kind of weird for me to call my sister by her last name ..."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not, my darling Nymph?"  
  
"Brat," she growled.  
  
"Brat?"  
  
"The Brat Who Lived Just To Annoy Me."  
  
"I always hated that name. I mean, seriously, who thought up 'Boy Who Lived'?"  
  
"Probably the Ministry."  
  
"Figures," he sighed dramatically. "Well, Nymphie, tell me something about yourself."  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"You're going to be my big sister and I know nothing about you. Spill."  
  
"Okay. My parents are Ted Tonks and Andromeda Black-Tonks. I was born on October 14th, 1970. I was a Ravenclaw, class of 1988. Now, I work as an Auror, in a squad under Kingsley Shacklebolt. My favorite color is pink and I hate it when people call me Nymphadora. Or Nymph."  
  
"Why can't I?"  
  
"Just - just - just because!"  
  
"Please?" He gave Nymph his best puppy-dog eyes and she relented.  
  
"Oh, alright, fine. But only you. If you start a trend with this - if anyone else calls me Nymph - I will not hesitate to hex you."  
  
"Hasn't anyone ever called you Nymph?"  
  
"Just one."  
  
"Well?" Harry prompted.  
  
"It was my best friend when I was six. But, after we stopped talking, nobody else did. I've been Tonks ever since."  
  
"Why'd you two stop talking?"  
  
"We got into a fight and I ... well, I kind of turned her back legs into ... goat legs."  
  
"Goat legs?!?"  
  
"My accidental magic is nothing to laugh at."  
  
"I know ... I've done things like that."  
  
"Really? Do tell."  
  
He looked slightly uncomfortable. "Er ... when I was ten, shortly before I was accepted into Hogwarts, I was ... well, I was talking to a Boa Constrictor in the zoo and Dudley came up and pushed me out of the way, so I 'accidentally' melted the glass on the cage."  
  
"You set a snake on him?"  
  
"I didn't set the snake on him. The Boa told me he had never seen Brazil and I was just helping him get there."  
  
"That's way better than my goat-girl. Did you do anything else?"  
  
"When I was seven I was running and the next second later, I was on the roof."  
  
"You Apparated? Cool!"  
  
"And my aunt gave me a really haircut once and, the next day, it had all grown back."  
  
"Wait a second, you grew your hair out?" Tonks gave him an intent look at this statement.  
  
"Mmmhmm."  
  
"Could you try something for me?" Harry nodded. "Close your eyes and imagine yourself with long hair. You got it? Now imagine that is how you really look."  
  
Harry concentrated hard and his head felt tingly.  
  
"You did it!" she exclaimed. "Open your eyes!"  
  
"Did what, Nymph?"  
  
"Touch your hair, brat." Harry reached out and patted his now shoulder length hair.  
  
"Oh, Merlin."  
  
"This explains everything! I should have realized ... your hair ... your growth spurt ... young Metamorphmagus always grow when they come into their powers ... I got mine when I had just turned fifteen and I shot up four whole inches!"  
  
"Hold on, you're telling me that I'm a - a - Metamorphmagus?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Whoa."

* * *

Later that day, Harry sat on his bed, playing with his once again short hair. 'Me, a Metamorphmagus. Who would have thought ...'  
  
As he listed all the things he could do with his new found talent, not all of which were entirely moral or legal, an owl arrived at the window. Harry slowly got up and paid it, glancing at the Daily Prophet. Only he didn't get too far into it.  
  
The front cover of the paper showed a picture of him chatting with Tom at the bar. In large letters, there was this headline above it:  
  
**HARRY POTTER: SECRETS REVEALED!**  
  
_'Uhoh, this cannot be good.'_  
  
Twenty minutes later had Harry glaring angrily at the newspaper.  
  
'_Harry Potter is a man of mystery, writes Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet correspondent_ ' the article began. '_For years, enquiring minds have wanted to know at least a piece of the her, trying to pick out his life from the rumors and shadows that surround him. And now, thanks to an interview with a source close to the subject of our adoration, we have the truth. The real story of Harry Potter.'  
_  
And they did. They had his life in black and white. From '_growing up unwanted and unloved with his Muggle relatives_' to his '_many brave and reckless feats at Hogwarts to save the school'_. From '_the terrible battles against evil dark wizards and You-Know-Who himself'_ to the '_tumulus relationship with a fellow student, Cho Chang, while trying to prove the Dark Lord's return to the world_'. It was all there.  
  
_'While the Boy Who Lived has not been able to be reached for comment, the source of these facts is a reliable one, although wishes to remain anonymous.  
_  
Harry stared at the article clenched in his fists once again. '_How did they ...'_  
  
_'There is only one way the Daily Prophet could have found out about all that,'_ he thought, wishing that it wasn't true. '_I haven't told many people about most of those things. That means ...'  
_  
One of his friends was a traitorous snitch.  
  
But who? 


	6. 5 Help Us

**A/N: This chapter is mostly a filler chapter. It hints on what is to come and shows how the war is not only affecting Harry and his friends (though, those are the only people we hear about in the books). Enjoy.**

CH5: Help Us (Interlude)

_"People killing, people dying,_

_Children hurting hear them crying._

_Would you practice what you preach?_

_And would you turn the other cheek?_

_Father, father, father, help us,_

_Send some guidance from above._

_'Cause people got me got me questioning_

_Where is the love?"_

July 10

In a dark, dreary room, deep in the heart of a forest, in a galaxy far, far away – okay, not a galaxy, just London – there sat two men.

"It's time for you to pick a recruit, Tompson. Have you chosen yet?" the first man asked, leaning back in his chair. His graying hair flopped into his eyes.

"I want him." The second slapped a newspaper on the table.

"Potter? What - ?"

"He's perfect for this, Sir. He's a Natural." The younger one looked somewhat giddy at the news, while the other looked slightly shocked.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I've been watching him for the past few days - "

"But - "

The young man ignored him. "- and he gets visions. Visions of what the Dark Lord is doing. He took Occulmency lessons during the past year, to block them, but ... the teacher was bad. He used the wrong technique and he didn't even show Potter how to hide his thoughts. But when the new guy came in this summer ... he could shield his mind in two days."

"I'll admit that's impressive. However - "

"The kid snuck out the other day. He doesn't like being cooped up, so he left. He got straight past all of the Order of the Phoenix members that are watching his house. They didn't even know he was gone until a member that Potter had to 'deal' with got a message to them."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"And he went to Diagon Alley. He's You-Know-who's biggest target and he waltzes right into the middle of a group of wizards. He even had a chat with Tom, the bartender of the Leaky Cauldron, about what is going on in the world. He calmly stated that if he was going to be attacked, he might as go where he wants to."

"Interesting."

"He said You-Know-Who's name. Right in front of anyone. He knew the whole room was listening to the conversation, but he said it anyway. He's fearless. Absolutely fearless."

"This is all well and good, but - "

"He has great reaction time, too. Someone pulled a wand on him and he just flipped the guy over. Pinned him right down on the floor. Using Muggle methods."

"Kyle - "

"You can't deny what he's already done. You've heard the stories, I know you have. The Philosopher's Stone, how he slayed a Basilisk, producing a corporal Patronus that drove back a hoard of Dementors when he was thirteen. The Triwizard Tournament. And facing the Dark Lord five times and surviving."

"He's the one of most recognizable faces in the world. It'd be awful for undercover - " the older man pointed out.

"He's a Metamorphmagus. He's only just started his training, but ...."

He sighed. "Alright. You've got your protégé. I hope you're up for it, though."

"I love a good challenge," Kyle smirked.

* * *

_Dear Mr. Harry Potter,_

_Hi. My name is Laurie Morgan Saran. I am seven years old. I like dragons. I hear the big kids down the street talk about you a lot. They said you are very brave and that you defeeted the Dark Lord when you was just a baby. I don't know how. Id be scared. They also said that he killed your mommy and daddy. He killed my daddy too. Just a little bit ago. I miss him. And mommy is sad. She cries all the time. Could you help her? Make her happy again? Please. She misses daddy as much as me. Do you miss your mommy and daddy?_

_Your friend,_

_Laurie_

_

* * *

_

__

Morgan Saran dried her eyes on her apron. It was getting harder to get up in the mornings. She snorted to herself: whoever said that grief would get easier with time deserved to have their teeth pulled out.

Before she let herself sink into despair, she heard her daughter's giggles from the living room. Her beautiful Laurie. She was the only thing that kept her going anymore.

As Morgan started to make breakfast, a snowy owl flew through the window, carrying a small package.

"Who's owl?" said a voice behind her. Morgan whirled around, always jumpy these days. It was her best friend, Samantha Kenton, who held her hands up in surrender. "Whoa, just me."

"Hello, Sam," she answered robotically. It was the same every morning.

"Who's owl?" Sam asked again.

"I don't know. It's addressed to ... Laurie, come in here honey."

Laurie came skipping into the room, blond curls bouncing. Her eyes widened as she saw the box.

"Is that for me?"

"Yes, sweetie."

The little girl shrieked in delight as she pulled back the cover ...

... and out flew a small model dragon.

"Wow," she whispered, petting its head. The dragon rubbed against her hand. "What kind is it?" She looked up at Sam expectantly.

"A Hungarian Horntail." She shot a puzzled look towards Morgan, who was deeply immersed in the letter with the package.

_Dear Laurie Saran,_

_Yes, I do miss my parents. And I'm sorry about your daddy. I'm sure he was a nice man and will be missed by everyone. _

_As for your mommy, she's going to be sad for awhile. Loosing someone is a terrible thing for anyone to go through. While I can't promise you that she'll ever totally be happy again, I can promise that she'll get better in time. _

_Laurie, wherever your daddy is right now, he's watching you. He'll always be there in your heart. A person is never truly gone as long as you remember them._

_Please tell your mommy that if she ever needs anything, she can always come to me._

_And dragons, huh? I'm sure you'll enjoy my little gift then. Take care of him. Oh, and his name's Hungry._

_Your friend, _

_Harry Potter_

A smile crept across Morgan's face as she read the letter.

"Laurie, did you write to Harry Potter?" she asked, grinning. Sam smiled as well.

Laurie suddenly looked sad. "I just ... wanted you to get better."

Morgan pulled her daughter onto her lap, the dragon flying around both of their heads, and handed her the letter.

Laurie looked up when she was done. "So, you're happy now?"

"I'm fine, hon. Just fine."


	7. 6 Pressure

**A/N: Short chapter, but that's only because the next chapter will be wicked long. It should be up this weekend (yay, four day weekend!).**

**CH6: Pressure**

_"I'm tired of being what you want me to be,_

_Feeling so faithless lost under the surface._

_Don't know what you're expecting of me,_

_Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes."_

July 11, 1996

Harry lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was days like these, when he had to much time to think, that he missed Sirius the most. He always dreamed of what life could have been like if he had grown up with his godfather, if he had gotten to spend more time with him ...

"Well, this is a productive way to spend the day," commented a dry voice above him. Harry shot up straight.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, eyeing the blond-haired man who was lounging in the doorframe suspiciously. "How'd you get in here?" He gripped his wand tightly.

"Relax, Mr. Potter." The man pushed off his spot and sat in Harry's desk chair. Harry just glared at him.

"Not until you tell me – "

"Security around here isn't as strong as it should be," the man remarked, stretching leisurely. "You proved that the other day."

"Who are you?" Harry repeated. He was sick of the question dodging.

"Allow me to introduce myself – Kyle Tompson, at your service." He took a mock bow. "I'm with the WIA."

"The what?"

"The WIA – the Wizarding Intelligence Agency."

"Wait, like, spies?" Harry relaxes his guard for a minute, thinking about all the old James Bond movies Dudley watched.

"We prefer the term undercover agents, but, yes. Spies."

"That doesn't explain why you're here."

"Right to the point, aren't you, Mr. Potter?" Kyle smiled briefly. "I'm here because, every year, we scout the wizarding population for potential news recruits. And this time, I've picked you."

"Me?" Harry looked bewildered. "Why me?"

"Can you honestly not think of a reason?"

"But – me? A spy? I don't know ... "

"I'll give you time to think it over." He reached into his pocket and produced a small white business card, handing it to Harry. "Here. This card is a portkey. Just say the words 'I accept' to activate it." He looked Harry right in the eyes. "I know this is a big decision. We'll be waiting for you when you are ready. Have a good day, Mr. Potter." He walked out of the room.

"Wait – "Harry looked out into the hall, but Kyle Tompson had disappeared. "Weird."

He studied the small card in his hands. The letters WIA was emblazed across the top, glittering slightly. He bit his lip.

Was this what he wanted? To become a ... secret agent? This whole idea was absurd. But ...

Harry did have to admit that any skills he learned would give him the edge against Voldemort. The world expected his to win, to be the savior again. Talk about pressure. And he would have a way to protect the people he cared about. There would never be another case like Sirius.

He ran a finger over the title of the card.

* * *

Kyle Tompson jumped slightly when he entered his office. Harry Potter was sitting there, waiting for him. The black-haired teen smirked.

"When do I start?"

* * *

**A/N: The mystery of the speakers last chapter is solved. Tune in next time for Harry's spy training.**


	8. 7 The World Is On Fire

**A/N: Yes, I know I said this would be up ages ago, but ... I lied. But, this time I actually have a good excuse!**

**Reviewers: Well, let's hear it!**

**You see, in order to fully prepare to write this story, I immersed myself in as many spy and thriller novels as I could find and I just got so wrapped up in Dan Brown's books (which I'm sure as any one who has read them knows) that I didn't write anything. Yeah ...**

**Harry: - appears – That's your excuse?!?**

**Well, yeah. Uhuh.**

**Harry: That's pathetic! You had better get writing, missy! – eyes reviewers – And you better all leave good reviews ... or else.**

**Aye, aye, captain! You all heard the man! Let's go a-fanfictioning!**

****

CH7: The World Is On Fire

"_The world is on fire_

_It's more than I can handle._

_Tap into the water,_

_Try to bring my share."_

"First things first, Harry, is that you have to disappear," Kyle said pleasantly, sliding into a seat across from him.

Harry looked up sharply. "What?"

"No, no, not like that. Relax. We can't have the Boy Who Lived vanishing off the face of the earth, after all, especially during the trials we are facing. I merely meant that no one can know exactly who you are and what you do. Undercover agents can not afford to have their identities compromised. While you are here, you will work on many different things in many different fields, but the only person who should know of all of them is you. And maybe Viper."

"Who's Viper?"

"He's the director of the agency right now. It's his job to know everything and he does it well."

Harry felt a shiver go up his spine, now feeling as though he was being watched, and he nodded solemnly.

"As I was saying," Kyle continued. "It is imperative that your real name is not discovered and that feat has become increasingly difficult in the past few years ... "

"Why?"

"Unfortunately, we have a spy in our midst. We are not sure who he is, but he has revealed the names of many of out prominent members in very public ways ... If he finds out that you work for us, you can kiss your anonymity good-bye."

"A spy who spies on spies? He must be very good."

Kyle nodded shortly, then moved on. "When you work for the agency, you are assigned a number and a code name to be referred to as. Remember this number, for it is who you are: 317796. Your code name will be given to you soon."

"Who picks it?"

"I do. It's tradition for the mentor to pick his student's name."

"What did your mentor chose for you?"

Kyle looked slightly uncomfortable. "Sawdust."

Harry burst out laughing, clutching his sides. "Sawdust?!?"

"Yes, but most call me dusty for short." Harry continued chuckling and Kyle scowled. "Knock it off. You don't understand, on my first day here, I ... got a little over-excited with my Disarming spell and blew up an end table."

Harry bit his lips and managed to choke out, "Beware of the great and powerful Sawdust!" before dissolving again.

Kyle snorted. "Sarcasm can be a dangerous weapon, you know. You would do well to hone it."

Slowly, the giggles died down and Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "Death by words or by the sword."

"I think that will do quite nicely," Kyle responded, a smile spreading across his face.

"For what?"

"Let's move along. I know you are studying to be a Metamorphmagus, but do you know how to change your appearance yet?"

Harry shook his head, confused by the sudden change of subject. "I've only managed to lengthen my hair so far."

"Very well then." He took out his wand and cast a few charms on the teen's face. Harry glanced into a mirror to see brown hair, hazel eyes, and an unmarred forehead.

"Well," Kyle rubbed his hands together. "I've got a lot to show you, so come along," he turned to the door and looked back over his shoulder. "... Dagger."

"Dagger?"

"Whose wit is as sharp as steel." Kyle winked. "Hopefully you will grow into it. Follow me."

* * *

"We've just got one last step before you are officially inducted into the agency," Kyle explained, walking down the long hallways of the base. The passageways were fairly deserted; they only passed a handful of other spies who were too involved in their own work to spare a glance at the pair.

"And what's that?" Harry struggled to match his mentor's strong strides.

"You have to be tested of course." The color drained from Harry's face?"

"Tested for what?"

"To see if you are suitable to be a member of the WIA." Kyle stopped at a door on the right hand side of the hall and pushed Harry in. "Good luck."

Chuckling, the man entered the door next to it. Two people were sitting inside, facing a large one-way window. A woman with blond hair turned to him.

"What sorry excuse for a recruit did you get this time, Thompson?"

"What's wrong with my agents, Pixie?"

"Nothing. It's just ... most of them couldn't find their own nose in the dark."

"Oh, I suppose you have amazingly intellectual and athletic recruits yourselves?" Kyle replied sarcastically.

"I don't want to brag, but mine is top of his class at Fleetwood."

"And mine is Head Girl of Beuxbatons," the man sitting next to her, who was called Bolt, spoke for the first time.

"Then let's watch the testing."

Through the window, the three spies watched as their recruits sat in a white room, each one looking terribly nervous. A tall, dark-skinned man paced in front of them, shooting off questions.

"What is a Gantarin Potion, number one?" he barked.

"I - I don't know?" answered a light haired boy, gripping his seat. "Sir," he added at the man's look. Bolt looked downward.

"And number two?" The man narrowed his eyes at a small, petite girl sitting next in line.

"Me neither, sir."

Pixie sat up in her seat. "What kind of a question is that? Who would actually know the answer to that?" She glared at the man, who seem to sense her gaze and shook his head slightly at the glass. "Me and Slips are going to have a long talk about this."

"Do you have an answer for us number three?" The mean, Slips apparently, stared at Harry.

"It ... " He licked his lips nervously. "It's a restorative potion that was used mostly in the Middle Ages during battles, sir. When the warriors would get tired, they would give them a few drops and they could stay up another 48 hours."

Slips raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"It was outlawed in ... 1942, I think, and classified as a Dark Potion."

"Why was that?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Well, the war against Grindelwald was going on then. The longer the fighters could stay up, the more bloodshed there was."

"Very good." A soft ringing came from Slips pocket. "Excuse me." He stood over by the wall, taking a small gray object out of his pocket.

"Looks like I hit the Natural on the nose," Kyle said proudly and Pixie gave him a withering glance.

"Isn't the saying 'hit the nail on the nose?'"

"That's not what I meant."

"Er - sir?" Harry asked when Slips was done talking. "Isn't that Muggle Technology?" The rectangle in his hands looked strangely like a beeper.

"It is. We find it to be more effective than most magical ways of communication while out in the field. Of course, it has a few magical adaptations ... Can you think of any?"

"Er ... You'd have to make it so that the signals wouldn't be scrambled in the midst of so much magic."

"How would we do that?"

"A simple strengthening charm mixed with a summoning charm should direct the signal straight to the communicator itself, but ..."

"But?" Slips prompted when Harry was silent for a few moments.

"You'd need a pure base to stabilize it. Like holy water or phoenix tears. But you couldn't have it moving around - it would make the reception fuzzy. So you'd have to crystallize it first."

"Any other problems?"

"You'd have to put a lot of secrecy charms on it to stop people from intercepting transmissions.

"Congratulations, number three. You've passed this part of the test."

"Game, set, and match." Kyle smiled proudly at Harry.


	9. 8 Do Or Die

**A/N: I do not own the movie Spy Games. I just happened to watch it and get the idea to make Harry a spy. I few ideas from that movie are in this chapter. All credit goes to the script writers of that movie. Also, the saying "The World is quiet here" is Lemony Snicket's. Enjoy the chapter!**

****

**CH8: Do Or Die**

"_We can't afford to be innocent_

_Stand up and face the enemy._

_It's a do or die situation_

_We will be invincible."_

Harry exited the white room and met a smiling Kyle.

"Good job, Dagger," he said proudly. "But I was a little surprised that you knew about a Gantarin Potion. That's an unusual question."

"Er - To tell you the truth, I ... well." Harry looked sheepish. "You know that saying, 'Learn from the past or you are doomed to repeat it'? Well, I ... er, took that to heart and bought a book on the rise and fall of Grindelwald the other day. I figured that I'd read it and learn what not to do in time of war. I just finished that book last night and ... it talked about the Gantarin Potion and I guess it was still fresh in my mind ...

Kyle raised his eyebrows. "It was luck?"

"Yeah. I just happened to read it and – " Harry gazed up at Kyle, expecting to see disappointment, but his mentor was still grinning.

"Don't worry, I'm not mad. Sometimes a person's greatest weapon is pure, dumb luck." He clapped a hand to Harry's shoulder. "Now let's go. We have work to do."

* * *

July 12, 1996

_First lesson: There are only a few things you need in the world – a pocket knife, your wand, and a smile._

"Hello, we have reservations under Hunter." Kyle flashed the man a brilliant smile. "Lovely weather we're having."

_Lesson Two: Every building, every room, every situation – memorize it._

"Take a look around," Kyle said quietly across the table. When Harry craned his neck around, Kyle placed a warning hand on his arm. "Not like that. You have to be inconspicuous. Use your surroundings to your advantage."

Harry leaned back casually in his chair and surveyed the room before him. A large mirror was hanging on the opposite wall, reflecting back the scene. Peering into it, he could easily see the room behind him.

Kyle beamed. "Perfect. Now, you have to take pictures with your mind. See, assess. Find what doesn't fit in and decide if it is a threat or not. Then act on it or dismiss it. Do it without looking or thinking. Like breathing."

"Without looking?"

"Yes. Now, that man reading the menu behind you. Is he a threat?"

Harry glanced into the looking glass at the man. He was bald and fat and ... his eyes weren't moving across the page. Instead, they were focused, discreetly, across the room. Harry followed their path to –

"Only to that waitress over there." He and Kyle smirked at each other.

_Lesson Three: One simple question gives away loads of personal information that now has to be true._

"Go make friends with him," Kyle said, eyes flickering toward to man. Harry gave him a strange look, but complied. Pretending to drop his napkin, Harry stole another look at the man. He was struggling to light his cigarette now. Harry sat back up, reached over to Kyle, pulled a lighter out of his mentor's coat, and turned around to the man.

"Need a light?"

The man smiled. "Thanks." He took a puff of his newly ignited smoke.

"My name's Greg," said Harry, extending a hand. "Greg Hunter."

"Nice to meet you, Greg. I'm David Baden."

Harry motioned to the newspaper resting on the table next to David, lying open to the sports section. "What do you think of the Cannons' chances this year?"

"Not a chance in hell."

Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Enjoy your meal."

"You, too."

"So?" Harry asked when you turned back around. "How'd I do?"

Kyle shook his head. "You just gave away three things about yourself for one piece of impersonal information." He checked off on his fingers. "You just told him you smoke, you like Quidditch, and you are a Cannons fan. If you ever run into him again in the future, or need his help, those things all have to be true."

"Oops."

"It's alright. It's only your first day." He stood from the table. "Let's get going. We can work more tomorrow."

* * *

July 12, 1996

When Harry woke up the next morning, a brown barn-owl was waiting by the window for him. He rubbed his eyes blearily and took the letter from the owl. When he finished reading it, he sat down on the bed, staring hard at the parchment.

_Dear Harry,_

_Hi. I've never written to you before, so you probably don't recognize my handwriting ... It is Cho. Cho Chang. I know I am probably one of the last people you expected to hear from, but there's something I need to talk to you about. I'm not a Gryffindor for a reason, I'm too afraid to talk to you about this face to face, so a letter will have to do._

_I like you, Harry. I really do. I know things didn't work out between us last year - I was still grieving over Cedric and you had too many things to deal with to have to comfort me as well, although you still tried to anyways. The point is ... I want to try again. I'll understand if you're over me already._

_I ran into Terry Boot the other day and we made plans to invite the DA to a Quidditch game on August 5th. It's Oliver Wood's first game as the permanent Puddlemere Keeper, which I know you'll want to see. If you want to, I would love to go with you. And if not, I still hope you will come and that we can remain friends._

_Anxiously awaiting your reply, _

_Cho Chang _

Harry re-read the letter. This was going to take some thinking. He got dressed and grabbed a small stone around his neck.

"The world is quiet here," he whispered to himself. And disappeared from his room.

* * *

"Are you ready for today?" Kyle asked as they exited his office.

Harry opened his mouth to respond and then stopped abruptly. In the hallway before him was ...

"That's Nott!" Harry hissed, pulling Kyle into a side corridor. "What is he doing here? He's a Death Eater!"

"Harry," Kyle said softly and the use of his real name caught his full attention. "I thought you understood that the Agency didn't take sides."

"Yeah, but – "

"The wizards who work here can have alliances with anyone. Which is why you must be very careful. You never know who you can trust."

* * *

_Dear Cho,_

_I don't really know how to write this. You are a great girl Cho and you deserve the best, but ... I don't think I can give that to you. My life right now is dangerous. I can't afford to have you get too close to me. I wish you all the luck in the world, Cho._

_Friends?_

_Harry_

_PS – I'll see you on the 5th._

_

* * *

_

July 25, 1996

Harry sat at his desk in a small office in the WIA Headquarters. The past two weeks had flown by and Harry felt more in control of his life than he ever had before.

He wasn't ready to fight Voldemort. But he was a lot closer.

A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," greeted Harry. Kyle entered, looking very happy.

"I've got good news."

"What?"

"You're ready, Dagger."

Harry beamed. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yes." Kyle smiled back at him. "You're first assignment starts tomorrow."

* * *

Harry returned to the Dursleys that night in a wonderful mood. This is what he had been waiting for. Tomorrow, he could finally put his training to use. He couldn't wait.

As soon as he lay down on his bed, there was a polite tapping on the door. Harry frowned. His relatives usually just barged in.

"Who is it?" Harry said cautiously, reaching for his wand.

"It's me, Harry." Remus' voice traveled through the door.

"How do I know it is really you?"

"I taught you how to cast a Patronus in your third year."

Harry stood up and walked over to the door, still suspicious. He opened it, letting Remus have admittance into his room.

"How can I help you, Remus?"

"Well ... "Remus suddenly looked uncomfortable. "The Headmaster sent me."

Harry's face immediately darkened. "What does he want now?"

Remus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "He wants you to write a letter to the Minister."

"What?"

"We've been working with the Ministry a lot more now. We are hoping to re-strengthen the relationship between them and the Order. Albus was hoping that you would write the Minister a letter about your meetings with Voldemort."

"Why doesn't he just tell Fudge himself?"

"He thought it would look better coming from you. It would show that the problems between the two of you were settled and that you were working together for a common good."

"Fine."

Remus looked startled. "Pardon me?"

"I said fine. I'll do it. Is that all?"

"Ah ... yes. Just mail it to the Minister when you are done. I – I'll see you soon, Harry." He left.

Harry stood up and walked over to his desk, getting out a quill and some parchment. Oh, he would write to the Minister alright. But there was no way he was going to send it by owl.

There were a few things he need to discuss with Cornelius Fudge face to face.


	10. 9 Strange Sympathy

**A/N: This chapter didn't turn out exactly like I wanted it to, but I figured I made you guys (and girls) wait long enough. So, enjoy this chapter (wow, I just realized it is almost ten pages long).**

**_CH9: Strange Sympathy_**

_"Stranger than your sympathy_

_And this is my apology_

_I killed myself from the inside out_

_And all my fears have pushed you out."_

July 27, 1996

"Do you know what you have to do, Dagger?" Kyle paced in front of him, piercing him with sharp looks.

Harry stood in position: feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back, emotionless face pointed forward. "Yes, sir."

"And what is your objective?"

"Infiltrate the location and scout for information, sir."

"And what are you not to do?"

"Reveal myself, sir."

"Exactly. Another agent will meet you at the location tomorrow at twenty hundred hours. Dismissed." Harry turned to the door. "And Dagger? Good luck."

* * *

Harry ran a hand through his short blond hair and entered the Black Quill, a popular wizarding café located on the edge of London. The Agency had received intelligence that it was the Headquarters of a well-known gang called the Caskets. Rumor was that they were in the middle of some shady dealings in Knockturn Alley with a couple low-level Death Eaters.

He looked around the restaurant, noting his surroundings. It was dimly lit, the floor filled with small round tables. A small platform sat at the front of the room and a piano played was serenading the visitors. Harry's eyes lit up as he saw the small sign posted on the wall next to it.

**Have a talent? Perform here every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.**

He smiled and walked over to the counter. The man working had longish red hair. His name tag said 'Chuck'.

"Hello," Harry said smiling. "Who would I see about playing here Thursday night?"

* * *

"But you don't play an instrument, Dagger," Kyle said slowly as if speaking to a very idiotic person. Which he actually thought Harry was right now.

"I was hoping you could help me out with that." Harry looked sheepish and Kyle hit his head against his desk. "Isn't there a spell for that or something?"

"No." His forehead scrunched up in concentration. "But there might be someone who can help us."

* * *

Harry watched as Kyle knocked firmly on the office door. He really hoped that whoever was inside could help them. The door opened and a slightly frazzled looking wizard stood there. Harry immediately recognized him as Perkins, the man who worked with Mr. Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department.

"Can I help you, Dusty?" He sounded annoyed. Kyle ignored it.

"My young recruit here has gotten himself into a bit of a sticky situation the first day on the job," he explained and Harry scowled. "Do you have any enchanted instruments we could use?"

Perkins thought for a moment then re-entered his office. He came out clutching an acoustic guitar. "Here," he shoved the instrument into Harry's hands and then slammed his door shut.

Harry lifted up the guitar and examined it. Suddenly he got the urge to strum the strings. The notes that came out were beautiful.

"I have no idea what you just played," Kyle said. "But it sounded good. Problem solved."

* * *

Harry sat at his desk, occasionally plucking the strings on his new guitar and scribbling on a piece of paper.

"How's it going?" Kyle asked, peering into the room. Harry tossed his note pad to him and Kyle deftly caught it.

"It rhymes," Kyle commented as he skimmed the words.

* * *

July 28, 1996

Harry sat at the counter of the café, skimming through a small German book. He had been studying different languages for the past two weeks and found he enjoyed it immensely.

The waiter on duty tonight kept shooting him suspicious looks and Harry pulled his Puddlemere cap further down over his head. He hadn't come to the Dark Quill in disguise tonight. His Metamorphmagus abilities were far from perfect and remaining in other forms for long periods of time still exhausted him. On Kyle's orders, he was conserving energy for tomorrow's performance. So he had just gone as himself and was becoming increasingly nervous that someone would recognize him as Harry Potter.

And someone did.

"I would never have thought I'd find you here," said a voice behind him. Harry whipped around and his heart plummeted. Standing there was his least favorite teacher, Severus Snape.

"Professor!" he exclaimed, slipping back into his scared student voice. "What – what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." Snape motioned to the chair next to him. "Can I sit down?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry I'm here, Professor. Please don't tell – "

"Don't worry," he cut in. "I'm not planning to."

This time, Harry didn't have to fake his reaction. "What?!?"

"Look," he lowered his voice. "Potter, during your Occulmency lesson –"

A sudden idea struck Harry, something he should have done a long time ago. "I'm sorry, Professor," he repeated, though now for an entirely different reason.

This time Snape looked startled. "What for?"

"For that day when I went in your Pensieve and for what happened in it." He was speaking fast, not wanting Snape to interrupt before he got out all he wanted to say. "I shouldn't have invaded your privacy like that. And my father shouldn't have acted like that. And I want you to know, I never told anyone what I saw there. Well, except for Remus and Sir – Sirius, but that was only because I wanted to know why they acted like total prats ... Oh, and for blowing up the other day. I was just so frustrated with everything that was going on, and I took it out on you ... Anyway, I'm sorry."

The Potions Master looked surprised for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Sir?" Harry asked tentatively. _'Someone's been inhaling too many potions lately_.'

When Snape managed to get himself under control, he looked over at Harry like he had never seen anything like him before. "I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that James Potter's son would be apologizing to me."

Harry glanced around quickly. "Could you keep it down a bit, they don't know who I am here."

"Really? Why not?" He seemed genuinely curious. Harry was worried now. Paranoia had been driven into his head during his training and he was always on guard. Why was Snape acting so nice?

"I don't like the attention," Harry admitted, half-truthfully. "I'd rather just be another face in the crowds."

"You're a lot less like your father than I thought." Snape said softly. Then he sighed. "Do you really want to know why I won't tell the Order what you've been doing?" At Harry's nod, he continued. "In that Occulmency lesson, after you blew up at me, I thought about what you said. I have to admit I'm surprised that you had to grow up that way. And then I remembered some of the images I saw when we had practiced last year, and they ... well, they reminded me a lot of my own childhood. And, to tell you the truth, I use to sneak out to get away from it all as well. So, don't worry, I won't mention where you've been going."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied, quietly.

"When we're out of class like this, you can call me Severus." Now he was really suspicious. _'Who the hell are you and what have you done to Snape?'_

"That's going to take some getting use to."

Severus smiled, something else Harry thought would need getting use to. "And congratulations. It takes a lot of skill and cunning to have snuck past your guard like that. You would have made a good Slytherin you know."

"That's what the Sorting Hat said."

He shook his head. "I'll see you at school, Harry." He picked up his cloak and left.

_'That was weird.'_

Harry watched the professors retreating back before turning back to his book. A small piece of paper next it caught his eye. He slowly picked it up and read:

_Harry - _

_I know why you are here. Meet me at the corner of Stanford and Kinetin at 11pm._

_The world is quiet here._

_S.S._

Harry blinked and stared at the letter. The world is quiet here; the official saying for the WIA. Then he checked his watch. 8 o'clock.

_'How many people does that man work for?'_

_

* * *

_

At eleven, Harry leaned casually against the street sign at the corner. A deep hissing came from a nearby alley.

"Potter!"

Harry cautiously walked over to the small path and met Snape. He raised an eyebrow. "So you're my contact?"

"Yes," he replied, making sure no one was around to hear them. "And I was as surprised as you were. How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you worked for us?" he said impatiently.

"About two weeks."

Snape looked up sharply. "This is your first assignment?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "Damn. Look, we have to work together, so – "

"Don't worry," Harry interrupted. "You don't have to like me. I've gotten used to the fact that you plot my death in your off time."

"Trust me, I have far more important things to do than plot your death." He looked into Harry's eyes. "And I don't hate you."

"Since when?"

"Not all I said in there was for show." Snape took a deep breath. "I never said it, but I am sorry about Black."

"No you're not. You hated him."

"You're right. I'm not sorry about him. I'm sorry that his death drove you to join the agency. No child should ever become a spy."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a child," Harry said irritably.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. Nobody has ever let you be just a child."

"Can we just move on? We have work to do."

Snape sized him up. "Fine." He pulled a small package from his robe pocket. "If you play good enough tomorrow night, you will be invited to an after-hours party upstairs. All you have to do is plant this" He tapped the package" somewhere."

"Done." He took it and started to walk away. Harry distinctly heard Snape mutter behind him,

"Merlin, I hope he doesn't screw up."

* * *

July 29, 1996

"Anton, you're up."

Harry, redisguised as Charles Anton, strode up to the platform and sat down in a chair. _'This is it,'_ he thought. _'Merlin, I hope I don't screw up.'_ He placed his guitar on his lap and started playing. Then he sang.

"He went to Paris

Looking for answers

To questions that bothered him so." Harry's voice echoed across the room.

"He was impressive,

Young and aggressive,

Saving the world on his own.

And the warm summer breezes,

French wines and cheeses

Put his ambition at bay.

And summers and winters

Scattered like splinters

And four or five years slipped away.

He went to England,

Played the piano,

And married and actress named Kim.

They had a fine life;

She was a good wife

And bore him a young son named Jim.

And all of the answers

And all of the questions

Locked in his attic one day.

'Cause he liked the quiet,

Clean country livin',

And twenty more years slipped away.

Well, the war killed his baby,

A curse killed his lady,

And left him with only one eye.

His body was battered,

His whole world was shattered,

And all he could do was just cry.

While the tears were falling,

He was recalling

Answers he never found.

So he hopped on a broomstick,

Flew over the ocean,

And left England with out a sound.

Now he lives in the islands,

Fishes and pylons,

And drinks his old whiskey each day.

Writing his memoirs,

Losing his hearing,

But he don't care what most people say.

Through one-oh-six years

Of perpetual motion,

If he likes you he'll smile and he'll say:

Child, some of it's magic,

Some of it's tragic,

But I had a good life all the way.

He went to Paris

Looking for answers

To questions that bothered him so."

Some of the audience had tears in their eyes as the last note faded out and the applause shook the room. As Harry left the stage, he was handed a small card.

**Mr. Newton would like to see you upstairs.**

'_Bingo.'_

_

* * *

_

"You are a very talented individual, Mr. Anton," said Newton.

"Thank you, sir. It is a lovely place you have here." They were seated in a small, richly furnished room that overlooked the entire café.

"It should be considering what I paid for it." Harry and the rest of the crowd up around him gave a fake laugh. "Now, enjoy the festivities, Mr. Anton. I have some work to attend to, but I shall be back momentarily." He walked off.

Harry leaned over to one of the guests. "Wonderful party," he remarked, leaning forward just enough so the small flat recorder would fall out of his pocket and into his hand.

"It is," she answered shortly, scanning to room for someone else to talk to. "Look, there's Mr. Avery!"

Harry's head whipped up. Sure enough, there he was coming up the stairs. _'Bugger,'_ Harry mentally swore and quickly brushed his hand underneath the chair he was sitting on. The device firmly attached itself to the wooden bottom. "Excuse me," he said to the woman and began to leave.

He was almost to the stairs when ...

"Where do you think you are going?" Harry turned around to come face to face with the Death Eater. "Mr. Newton will be upset if his guests start leaving before nine."

"I'm sorry, something came up." Avery moved to block his way.

"Trust me, Mr. Newton is not someone you wish to get angry."

"Well, offer him my sincerest apologies, would you?" Harry swiftly brushed past him, and all but ran down the stairs and out of the café.

* * *

"You did well for your first time," Snape said, knocking on the door to his office. "Dagger, is it?"

Harry let a small smile show at the name. He had indeed grown into it, though in an unexpected way.

* * *

_July 19, 1996_

"_We will be learning sword and knife combat today, Dagger. Here," Kyle held out a small blade to him, which Harry quickly took. "See what you can do."_

"_But ... "He looked confused. "You haven't told me how yet."_

"_Haven't you learned that you can't always expect everyone to tell you what to do? Figure it out for yourself."_

_Awkwardly, Harry held up the knife and aimed at a dummy on the other side of the room. It flew through the air a few feet before clunking to the floor. He glared at it angrily before pulling out his wand and banishing the knife away. It spun rapidly before embedding itself into the dummy's head._

_Kyle looked stunned. "That's not exactly what I meant – "But he was cut off by the sound of clapping. Harry turned to see Pixie and her recruit standing by the door way._

"_Wow, his spells really slice through you like a 'dagger', don't they," she remarked sarcastically._

_

* * *

_

"Yes. And you are?"

"Cobalt."

Harry studied the Professor for a moment. There was something he wanted to ask, but ...

"Could I ask you a favor?" Harry began carefully. Snape gave him a puzzled look, but nodded. Harry inhaled deeply. "Could you ... could you teach me the – the Dark Arts?"

Whatever Snape had been expecting to hear, it wasn't this. The surprised look on his face was almost comical.

"What – what did you just say?" He stepped into the room and shut the door.

"I want to learn the Dark Arts," he said more confidently this time. "I've asked Ky – Dusty, but he refused."

"Why?" The question hung in midair.

Harry looked into Snape's eyes. "I'm supposed to kill him." Both of them knew who 'him' was. "I need to know everything I can."

Silence settled over the room for a few minutes. Then Snape nodded.

"Yes, I will teach you."


	11. 10 Close Your Eyes

**Beta Xirleb70 note: consider this beta'd. And Dev? sweet smile Do the hyphen thing again, and I'll go on strike, _I SWEAR!! scowls, muttering about inconsiderate authors_**

**CH10: Close Your Eyes**

"Don't turn away

Don't give into the pain

Don't try to hide

Though they're screaming your name

Don't close your eyes

God knows what lies behind them

Don't turn out the lights

Never live never die."

July 30, 1996

Harry took a deep breath as he paused outside _Cobalt's_ offices within the WIA. He was equally dreading and anticipating this, and with great effort he pushed open the door.

"Don't get too comfortable," Snape said, without preamble. "We aren't staying in here."

'_Not one for pleasantries, is he?'_ Harry thought sarcastically. He obediently waited until Snape gracefully billowed past him. Turning on his heel, he followed Snape out of the room, glaring at Snape's back hatefully.

'_Why did I ever get myself into this?'_ he moaned miserably. But, he knew why.

Harry kept his eyes peeled for familiar landmarks along the route, making sure to mark the way back from wherever Snape was taking him incase of an emergency. He wasn't sure where they were heading and he didn't like the feeling of traipsing blissfully unaware into the unknown.

Oh, no, Harry didn't trust Snape. Not even _close_. And Sirius was probably rolling over in his grave at the mere thought of Harry asking Snape of all people for help. Yet, the Sorting Hat hadn't wanted to place him in Slytherin without reason. Snape was the only way for him to get what he wanted... and to get what he wanted, he was going to do whatever it took.

Harry wasn't positive of when he had started to think more like a Slytherin, and he wasn't convinced he liked this new thinking style either.

"In here," Snape said, pulling on a handle to gain admittance into a small, rectangular room. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was a simple training room, very much like the ones he had spent his everyday in since he started his training. "As long as we are in the room, nobody can track what kind of magic we are doing."

Harry looked puzzled. "But I thought that all magic preformed inside Headquarters was untraceable."

"Untraceable from outside sources, not from inside," Snape explained, way too patiently, which set Harry on edge again. "There are just as many people inside the Agency that would not – approve – of what we are practicing."

Harry nodded, contemplating this. He spoke when Snape was quiet for a few moments, making it abundantly clear that he was not the one to break the uncomfortable silence. "So, what first?"

"What manner of training have you received?" Snape asked abruptly.

"What?" Harry blinked a few times, just barely restraining his reflex to gape like a bumbling fool.

"Just answer the question, Potter," he snapped. Ah, now _that_ sounded a bit more like the Snape he knew and loathed!

"Er, traditional spy training, I suppose."

Snape sighed impatiently. "And what did that entail, specifically? I would assume you went through a basic two-week training program." At Harry's affirmative nod, he went on. "What did you study during those weeks?" he asked slowly, as if explaining it to a small child.

"Charms, hexes, transfiguration, knife fighting, hand to hand combat, defensive shields-"

"Alright, alright, I get it. Were you taught anything further as an extra course?"

"I've been studying foreign languages."

Snape's head snapped up. "Tu parle le francais?" _Do you speak French?_

"Oui." _Yes._ "I didn't know you spoke-"

"My grandmother always thought French was more cultured than English," Snape explained. "I always enjoyed studying languages as a child ..." He trailed off, reminiscing a bit.

Harry cleared his throat and Snape shook his head, pulled back into the real world.

"Now." He clapped his hands together. "I know you have bit of a talent for the Dark Arts-"

"I do?" Harry interrupted him, surprised. Snape glared.

"Yes, you have a talent for the Dark Arts. _Don't_ interrupt me." He started pacing. "As I was saying, this talent is most obvious in your Parseltongue abilities." He eyed Harry closely. "While I highly doubt this, I must ask anyway: have you ever cast any other spells based in the Dark Arts?"

Harry opened his mouth slightly and looked hesitant. Snape rolled his eyes in silent, mocking disdain. "Just spit it out, Potter."

"Once," he said quietly, not meeting Snape's eyes.

Snape's eyebrows rose slightly and he looked skeptical. "_Really_," he said disbelievingly. "What, pray tell, did you cast?"

"I never said it worked!" Harry exclaimed, sounding panicked. "Because it didn't!"

"Potter, what are you on about? What spell did you cast?"

"It doesn't count if it didn't work, right?" Harry blurted, looking like he was going to hyperventilate.

"Potter-"

"I mean, if it didn't even properly-"

"Potter-"

"There is no way that it could-"

"_Potter_!"

Harry shut up, but his entire body continued to tremble frightfully. Snape stood in front of him, a strange look on his face. As Harry glanced up into his eyes he recognized it; compassion.

For the first time since Sirius had died, Harry actually felt like someone was watching out for him.

The fact that the person was Severus Snape only made him shake harder.

"Potter, sit down." A chair appeared behind him and Harry slid into it carefully, clenching his hands on the arms to try and slow his frantic breathing. Snape closed his eyes for a second, face scrunching up in concentration, and suddenly there was a tall glass of water in his hands. "Drink it. _All_ of it."

Harry didn't bother disputing the order and he downed the entire thing in one gulp.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he whispered, finally getting the shivering under control. He had a feeling that the glass had not only been filled with water, but he was far too distressed to care.

"What spell did you attempt to cast?" Snape asked softly.

"You didn't answer my question." Harry pointed out petulantly.

"And you didn't answer mine."

There was an uncomfortable silence again. Harry couldn't bear to look up at the Professor's face again; he didn't think he could handle any more pity right now.

He didn't deserve pity, not after all he had done. Not after his parents, not after Cedric.

Not after Sirius.

"What spell was it, Potter?" No answer. "Harry."

"No. I can't ... "

"Harry, what spell?" Snape's acidic tone was now gentle, beguiling.

"You aren't going to be nice to me any longer," Harry mumbled incoherently.

"What spell was it?"

"The Cruciatus," he whispered.

"_What_?" Snape breathed.

"The Cruciatus, alright!" Harry yelled, the pain and torment over that night finally being released. "Is that what you wanted to hear?!"

"Where? Who? ..._How_?" Snape could barely wrap his mind around the fact that Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, had cast one of the worst curses in wizard kind.

"Why do you even care?"

"Harry, tell me."

"Why? You never gave a damn about me before. Why would you bother to start now?" A dawning of understanding appeared in his jaded eyes. "Unless..." Harry paused, his eyes narrowing. "You know! You know about the Prophecy."

Snape's eyes widened and Harry knew the truth at once.

"You do. Don't you?" Harry's voice was flat.

"Harry-"

"You know about the damn Prophecy!"

"Listen to me-"

"No! Why should I?"

"You don't understand-"

"That's why you were so nice in the club! I can't believe I didn't see it before!"

"Please, that's not-"

"I am not a fucking weapon, Snape!"

"I know-"

"Why the fuck do you care?!?"

"Harry-"

"Why do you care?!" Harry demanded.

"Harry-"

"Why!?"

"Because I don't want you to end up like me!" The shout was desperate, and there was something final about the older man's tone.

Harry stopped, staring into Snape's pleading face, his breathing erratic. He couldn't do this, he couldn't be here anymore. It had to stop... it just... he couldn't...

Harry turned and ran out the door, almost tripping over his feet to get away, leaving a startled Snape behind, too stunned to chase after the fleeing teenager.

"Harry!"


	12. 11 Identity Crisis

**A/N: Excuse, excuses. I know you all don't want to hear excuses for why it took so long for me to update, but I do have my reasons. Shortly after starting my new job (which I figured might delayed my updating a bit), my best friend was diagnosed with diabetes and I've been spending a great deal of time with her, helping her to adjust to it. I am sorry you had to wait.**

**The beta-ed version should be up as soon as Xirleb70 decides to beta it.**

**And, as per reviewer request, I am adding the name andartist of all the songs I use at the start of the chapter. I go back and fix the previous chapters shortly.**

**Beta note: **Alas, I decided to beta it, seeing as I felt a tad guilty for pulling the disappearing act on dear DevRose here… again… so, I felt obligated to beta it. Enjoy!!

BETA'ED VERSION: CH11: Identity Crisis

"I'm surrounded by liars everywhere I turn

I'm surrounded by imposters everywhere I turn

I'm surrounded by identity crisis everywhere I turn

Am I the only one to notice?

I can't be the only one who's learned."

'I Don't Want To Be' by Gavin Degraw

July 30, 1996

Harry breathed roughly as another spell came in contact with the dummy before him. The dummy moved to fight back, but Harry struck out again mercilessly, causing it to crumple to the floor.

"Activate," Harry murmured, watching as it sprang back to life, ready for another beating.

"Bad day?" an amused voice asked from the general direction of the doorway. Harry shot a Stupefy at the dummy and brought his wand up to point at the arrival. Kyle held his hands up in defense. "Whoa, calm down. It's just me."

"What do you want?" Harry asked, returning to attacking the dummy with relish.

"I see you already heard," Kyle remarked as he took in the scene before him: the dummy's gray skin marred with rips and tears, the walls covered in burn marks, Harry sweating profusely but continuing on with a fire in his eyes.

Harry shot him a glare while he sent a Severing Charm at the dummy's leg. "I don't feel like dealing with any mind games today," he said shortly. "What are you talking about?"

"I assume by your … '_cheerful_ demeanor'," Kyle sneered sarcastically. "That you have heard about Umbridge's trial."

Harry whipped around with wide eyes. "What?!?" Attention distracted, the dummy pulled his fist back and slugged Harry in the back of the head. "Bloody hell!" he yelled and gave the dummy an elbow in the gut. "**Stop**!" The dummy became inanimate again.

Kyle clicked his tongue. "What did I tell you about letting yourself get distracted, Dagger?"

"What about Umbridge?" Harry asked, ignoring the mocking scold.

His mentor looked confused. "You haven't heard? She's going on trial tomorrow. They are investigating what happened at Hogwarts last year. I know how you feel about her, so I just assumed – _Harry_!"

But Harry was already sprinting out the door.

July 31, 1996

The next morning there was a large tawny owl waiting on Harry's windowsill.

_H –_, the letter said.

_Meet me tomorrow, same time, and same place. We need to talk._

_The World is Quiet here,_

_S_

Harry bit his lip as he read over the note again. Sighing, he put the note down. He'd worry about that later.

Now, he had bigger things to worry about.

Harry nervously smoothed down his black pants and fixed his collar. He had no idea what this trial would be like. But he had to be there. He had to make sure that she didn't get away with all that she had done last year.

He slipped into the telephone booth and dialed. "Six – two – four – four – two." The pleasant sound of the Ministry voiceover lady's voice filled the booth.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter," Harry intoned briskly. "The trial of Dolores Umbridge."

A small silver badge fell out of the shoot and Harry pinned it on his shirt, making sure it was partially hidden by the folds of his black robe.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, whish is located at the far end of the Atrium."

Harry flinched slightly as the floor descended into the ground. This brought back too many memories of the day Sirius died – the day he lost Sirius forever. The worst day he could remember.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the women and the doors opened.

Harry blinked against the bright glare of the lights in the room and stepped in. It looked the same as it had when he had been there last summer: crowds of workers bustling around, fireplaces roaring to life to admit newcomers. But there was one notable difference.

Harry walked towards the large fountain. The statues were in disrepair, some figures missing completely. A large sign hung in front of the monstrosity, proclaiming it, '**Under Construction**'.

He sighed and passed by it, making his way through the mob to wait in the line at the security desk.

"Step over here." It was the same wizard who had been working during his own hearing. Harry complied, hoping the man had not recognized him. The man, Eric if he remembered correctly, passed the long gold rod over his front and back.

"Wand," said Eric in a disinterested tone. Harry cautiously held out his wand and watched as the paper flew out of the machine.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use five years …" He stopped and looked at the paper curiously, before a look of realization dawned in his eyes. His head shot up to gaze at Harry's forehead.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Harry asked politely, praying that his Metamorphmagic was holding and that his scar was still concealed.

"No, no, I just thought …" he trailed off, handing Harry back his wand. "Never mind."

"Do you know where they are holding the Umbridge trial?" he inquired.

"A Hogwarts student, eh? It's down in Courtroom Seven."

"Thank you." Harry left the desk and headed over to the elevators. As he saw the last one closing, he raised a hand and called, "Wait!" A man inside stuck out his arm and held the lift door. "Thanks."

"No problem," the man said, shrugging it off. He eyed Harry curiously. "You're a bit too young to be working here. Where are you headed?"

"The trial," Harry answered.

The man laughed. "Me too. I wouldn't miss this for the world. Did you know Umbridge?"

"We've met."

"You didn't like her either," he guessed, sensing Harry's tone. "She was a real hag. I'm Jacob, by the way. Jacob Tontine."

"Harry." They shook hands briefly.

"Department of Mysteries," the women's voice boomed through the speakers.

"That's us," Jacob said joyfully and stepped through the door. He looked back at Harry. "Something wrong?"

Harry took a deep breath, pushing the memories away. _'Calm down, Harry,'_ he told himself. _'What's wrong with you? You are a spy. These things are not supposed to affect you anymore.'_ He shook his head. "I'm coming."

The pair walked in silence down the stairs until they reached the door to number Seven. It was wide open, scores of people filling the room. Harry surveyed the scene, gob smacked.

"I guess she wasn't liked by many people," he commented dully.

Jacob smirked. "You could say that." He peered around. "There are a couple of seats back here. It starts in a couple minutes, so I doubt we will be able to find better ones."

"That's alright." Inwardly, he was relieved. The closer he was to the action, the more likely it was that someone might recognize him.

They sidled into their seats, which were next to the door. The woman next to Jacob glared at him.

"Jacob Tontine, aren't you supposed to be at work?" she scolded.

"They won't miss me," he responded, smiling. The woman huffed.

"Who's that?" Harry whispered.

Jacob leaned over to reply, but the woman interrupted and hissed, "Shhh! It's starting."

Rows and rows of witches and wizards in Wizengamot robes filed in and took their seats on the high up benches, all looking down on the courtroom with severe expressions.

"Have you ever been to a trial before?" Jacob asked quietly, so the witch would not reprimand him again.

"I've seen a memory of one," Harry responded.

"Trial of the thirtieth of July," said Madame Bones in a loud voice. Harry did a double take. Where was Fudge? "Charges against Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, are as follows: assault, improper use of magic, deceit, bribery, blackmailing, and misuse of power."

Jacob whistled under his breath.

"I will be presiding over today's investigation in place of Minister Cornelius Oswald Fudge, who has been asked to step down for the day due to a conflict of interest. Also asked to step down is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." She adjusted her monocle. "Interrogators include Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Thomas Randal, Head of the British Auror Division. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister. Mr. Randal will be conducting the proceedings today. Please bring out the Defendant!" she barked.

Umbridge was led out from a side door by two burly looking wizards and dropped unceremoniously in a chair. A tall, black-haired man with a vicious scar running down his left cheek stood up and approached her.

"You are Dolores Jane Umbridge?" Randal said in a deep voice.

"Yes," she said, and Harry winced as he heard the familiar high-pitched sounds.

"Age 43?"

"Yes."

"You have been working under Minister Fudge since his election in 1991?"

"Yes."

Randal turned towards the Wizengamot. "Two investigators from the Department of Magical Law enforcement, Mr. Albert Ellenton and Miss Pricilla Andrews, have been working on this case and are prepared to come out and establish the evidence they have collected." At Madame Bones' nod, another door opened and two slightly frazzled looking people came out.

A short, stocky man stepped forward and addressed the court. "We would like to call forth several witnesses to illustrate the crimes Miss Umbridge has committed."

"Continue," said Randal.

A taller woman with a mass of curly blond hair stepped beside her partner. "We would like to call Mr. Lee Franklin Jordan to the stand."

Harry watched with interest as Lee stood up from his place in the front row of the courtroom and took a seat next to the benches.

"Do you swear on your life and magic to tell the truth?" Ellenton asked.

"I do," said Lee with conviction.

"Very well then. Last year, Miss Umbridge served as your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And you attended detention with her on several occasions?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you do to deserve these detentions?"

"Erm …" Looking around hesitantly, Lee looked a bit abashed.

Ellenton chuckled. "No need to be shy here, son. We aren't going to arrest you for breaking a couple of school rules."

"I played a couple of … pranks on her."

"How many detentions did you serve?"

"Three."

"And what occurred during these punishments?"

"She had me write lines."

"Is that all?"

Lee shook his head. "The quill I used … it didn't use ink. When I tried to write with it, it cut the back of my hand and used my blood to write out the words."

The crowd gasped. "Do you know of any other students who served detention in the same way?"

"I know of many others who had detention with her, but I only know of a few who definitely used that quill."

"Please tell us their names."

"Er … Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Harry Potter."

Harry absentmindedly rubbed the back of his hand.

"How do you know that these students went through the same trauma you did?"

"Ernie, Terry, and Anthony all had detention the same week I did. We met in the library to … study for a club we were all members of and then the discussion turned to our detentions. We thought about going to McGonagall, we really did," he said earnestly. "But we didn't know if she could do anything, what with Umbridge being the Headmistress and all."

"And what about Mr. Potter?"

"When I got back from my first detention, Harry recommended Murtlap essence for the pain. He never told me outright – and Harry is the type of person who keeps his problems to himself as long as he can – but, by his reaction, I'm sure he used that quill, too."

"Thank you, Mr. Jordan. You may step down now."

Ellenton turned back to the Wizengamot, taking a deep breath as if to steady himself for what was to come.

"Are you ready to call your next witness?" Madame Bones asked politely when he seemed to hesitate.

"At this time, Your Honor, we seem to have no more witnesses."

Madame Bones crinkled her forehead in confusion. "But it says here – "

"Yes," Andrews cut in, standing up to face the judges. "We did have a witness. But it seems that _someone_ has been threatening her and she has decided not to testify today." The courtroom filled with low murmurs.

"Very well then," Madame Bones said. "If you have no more witnesses, then – "

"With all due respect, you did not let me finish." Andrews pulled a sheet of white parchment from her robe pocket. "While we have no more human witnesses, we have some much more concrete evidence." She motioned to the front row of the courtroom. "As you have heard from Mr. Jordan's testimony, he and some of his fellow students, in a show of protest against Miss Umbridge, played a few childish pranks on her. In our investigation, we discovered that Miss Umbridge took some precautionary measures after that and installed a recording device in her office."

Umbridge paled and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"With your permission," Ellenton continued. "We would like to play the contents of that device for the courtroom."

"I object!" came Umbridge's shrill reply. "Those are my _private _doings in my _private _office and you have _no _right to – "

"Quiet!" Madame Bones stood up. Then she turned to Ellenton and Andrews. "Your request is granted."

Back in his seat, Harry rubbed his hands together in anticipation. _'Oooo, this going to be fun.'_

With a snap of Ellenton's fingers, the courtroom doors opened and a small black device was wheeled in. It was about the size of a quaffle, only squarer. He addressed the court again. "There is only one recording we wish to show today. A very enlightening recording."

"Proceed."

Ellenton pressed his wand into the top of the box. "The date was the 20th of June … "

A small bluish mist arose and the audience was entranced as it filled the front of the courtroom.

BANG!

A flash of light blinded everyone watching. As their vision cleared, the image of a dingy office floated before them. A very familiar pair of legs were crouched in front of the fire, unaware that Umbridge and her Inquisitorial was lurking into the room behind them.

Harry closed his eyes. He had known this was coming as soon as he heard the date. But that didn't mean he was ready to relive that day …

_The crowd winced as a teenage boy was yanked out of the fire by his messy black hair._

"_You think," said Umbridge in a deadly whisper. "that after two Nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge. I had Stealth Censoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boy. Take his wand. Hers, too."_

The crowd watched as the boy and his friend were disarmed and as Umbridge bent the boy's neck dangerously far back.

"_I want to know why you are in my office."_

"_I was – trying to get my Firebolt!"_

"_Liar. Your Firebolt is under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Potter."_

There were surprised exclamations from the crowd as they took in this news.

"Settle down, please," Madame Bones said strictly.

"_You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?"_

"_No one-"_

"_Liar!"_

Outraged protests overtook some audience members as Harry flew into a desk. And, at the front of the room, Ellenton reclined back in his chair, smirking. Harry never took his eyes off him. The man knew this was going to happen. The people were now watching Umbridge torment their once-again-hero. The prosecution was going for the sympathy vote.

And it was working.

Harry watched the reactions of the crowd as snippets of the recording went by.

"_You took my last bottle to interrogate, Potter."_

"_The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue."_

"_He never knew I ordered Dementors to go after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him all the same."_

With Hermione's last scream of "No!" the memory faded.

Ellenton and Andrews stood up, faces of smug insinuations plastered on across their features. "The prosecution rests," they announced in unison. Umbridge sat trembling in her place, knowing that there was no chance for her to win this case any longer.

Madame Bones stood once more, a grim look on her face. "Although I am disappointed in my former co-worker and am reluctant to bring down punishment, we can all see now that it is necessary. However … "

Harry's head shot up. She wasn't going to pardon Umbridge, was she? She couldn't!

"There is one last witness I believe we need to hear from. Mr. Jordan, would you please stand up?"

Lee complied, looking bemused. "Yes, Madame?"

"Mr. Jordan, would you happen to know of any way we could get a hold of Mr. Potter. I believe his testimony would be most beneficial to this case."

Lee thought for a moment, before smirking at the Wizengamot. "I've know Harry since he started his first year at Hogwarts. And if I have learned anything about him these past years, it is that he has this strange determination to make sure all things are right in the world. I have heard it referred to as a 'hero complex' and that certainly describes Harry." He paused. "Knowing this, I am almost positive that he is in this very room right now."

Madame Bones actually smiled at this, an expression that looked out of place on the stern woman Harry had seen her as. She gazed out over the audience. "Mr. Potter?"

There were hushed whispers racing across the corrugation. Harry sighed softly.

Hermione was right. Lee was right. He wished he didn't have this damn hero complex as it seemed to bring him nothing but trouble. But he knew this was something he had to do.

Slowly, but confidently he stood, ignoring the shocked gasp from Jacob. "Here it goes," he said to himself and stepped out into the center aisle.


	13. 12 What I Am After

**CH12: What I Am After**

_"Every day a new deception_

_Pick your scene and take direction_

_And on and on I search to connect_

_Don't wear a mask and I have no regrets_

_I am focused on what I am after_

_The key to the next open chapter."_

_Fly From the Inside by Shinedown_

_Previous Chapter: Madame Bones actually smiled at this, an expression that looked out of place on the stern woman Harry had always perceived her as. She gazed out over the audience. "Mr. Potter?"_

_There were hushed whispers racing across the corrugation. Harry sighed softly._

_Hermione was right. Lee was right. He wished he didn't have this damn hero complex as it seemed to bring him nothing but trouble. But he knew this was something he had to do._

_Slowly, but confidently he stood, ignoring the shocked gasp from Jacob. "Here it goes," he said to himself and stepped out into the center aisle._

"Lee," Harry said, nodding his head in greeting as he reached the front of the courtroom.

Lee waved in return. "Hiya, Harry."

For the first time, Harry realized who Lee was seated with. The DA. All of them. Susan, Justin, Ernie, Lavender, Dean … they had all turned up to see the downfall of the person who had haunted them. Harry allowed a small smile to lift the corners of him mouth at the sight, before turning back to face the Wizengamot.

"It's good to see you again, Madame," acknowledged Harry, gazing into the eyes of the woman sitting high above him.

Madame Bones inclined her head, but their exchange was interrupted by Ellenton. "We need to ask you a few question now, Harry," he said smoothly. "Is that alright with you?"

Harry's teeth were immediately set on edge at the condescending tone, but he consented anyway. Slowly he stepped up to the stand.

"Mr. Harry James Potter, do you swear on your life and magic to tell the truth?"

"I do."

"Take a seat."

As Ellenton started pacing back and forth in front of the stand, Harry realized that the eyes of the entire room were on him. He swallowed hard; he never really liked being the center of attention.

"This past year," Ellenton started and Harry had to pull his focus back on the questioner. "There were rumors of an illegal Defense group operating in Hogwarts. Do you have knowledge of this group?"

"Yes."

"What was this group called?"

"The group was called the Defense Association, the DA, or, as we came to call it, Dumbledore's Army."

"_We_? Were you a member of this… _club_?"

"I… well, that is to say…"

"Speak up, Mr. Potter."

"I ran it." Harry uttered solidly.

"Interesting. How many members were in this association?"

Harry did a brief mental count. "There were twenty-nine members altogether."

"And how, pray tell, did this club start?"

Harry drew in a deep breath. "With Umbridge teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and the Ministry's new _revised_ curriculum, we weren't learning anything. We– that is to say, the other members of the club and I– weren't prepared for… well, anything. You couldn't possibly understand the situation unless you were in Hogwarts at that time. The Headmaster was fighting the Ministry; we were losing our classmates, our friends; and nobody was telling the students what was going on. We were about to enter the real world completely unprepared for the challenges that we had to face." Harry took a slow pause, eyes meeting Ellenton's firmly.

"The DA was our solution to that, the only thing we really had any control over. It was my friend Hermione's idea really." He chuckled. "She bullied me into. Word got around and soon we established the club."

Ellenton looked a bit unsettled. "What exactly did you teach them?"

"Some standard Defense charms," he shrugged. "Expelliarmus, Stupefy, Expecto Patronum-"

"The Patronus Charm isn't exactly what most people consider standard, Mr. Potter." There were titters from the crowd.

"We were just learning whatever we thought would help when faced with a Death Eater or Voldemort-"

The room gasped and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Kindly refrain from saying that name, please," Ellenton asked through clenched teeth.

"Why should I?" The crowd gasped. "Oh come _on_. Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Still-" Whatever Ellenton was going to say was cut off by Madame Bones.

"I think that is enough, Mr. Ellenton. Mr. Potter, you may take your seat."

Harry stood to go, but a voice from the back benches stopped him.

"Hold on one moment. If I may, Madame Bones," a tall woman stood up. It was the frizzy haired witch who he remembered from his trial as being very pro-Fudge. "I have a question to ask of Mr. Potter." At Madame Bones' encouraging nod, she continued. "Who were the other members of the club?"

Harry shifted slightly in his seat. Something wasn't right, he could feel. "Well, they were …"

"It's alright, Potter," came the assurance of Zacharias Smith from the front row. "We don't have anything to hide." Several of the other members nodded exuberantly. Harry sent them a pleading look, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

The frizzy haired witch smirked. "Thank you very much." She turned back to the rest of the Wizengamot. "I believe we are ready to make our decision now."

Madame Bones began to stand. "Please return to your seat, Mr. Potter. We will be back out with the verdict momentarily."

Harry stood as he watched the Wizengamot shuffle out the back door of the room. He walked up to the rest of the DA and sat down. "I have a bad feeling about this," he announced without preamble.

"Cheer up, Harry," said Dean, slapping him on the back. "There is no way she could be excused of these charges. Not after what we all saw." He shuddered. "Did she really threaten to use an Unforgivable Curse on you?" Harry nodded somberly and there were sympathetic looks from his friends.

"Ah, Harry?" Susan asked, prodding him in the shoulder. "I know this might not be the best time, but…"

"What is it, Susan?"

She timidly pointed to the other side of the room. "Dumbledore is sitting over there and he isn't looking too pleased right now."

Harry groaned and Lee chuckled. "You aren't supposed to be here, are you." It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded anyway. "I thought not. Dumbledore wouldn't let Ron, Hermione, or Ginny come either."

Harry looked around. "Where are the twins?"

"Over there with their brothers." He motioned to the smiling Weasley bunch a few rows down from the glowering Headmaster.

Harry groaned as Dumbledore waved him over.

"Tough luck, mate," Seamus said sympathetically. "But you've got to face the music sooner or later."

Slowly Harry stood and winded his way through the crowd towards the Professor's seat, ignoring the many stares he was receiving. "Hello, Headmaster," he cordially greeted when he reached the bench.

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly, a hint of steel creeping into his voice. "What are you-"

"Can we have this discussion later?" Harry inquired calmly. "Perhaps when there are not so many reporters around?"

"Do not think you can avoid this, Harry. We will be speaking soon."

"I can't wait," he muttered under his breath and headed back over to sit with his friends.

"Happy birthday, by the way, Harry," wished Susan when he returned. Harry's eyes widened slightly. "Don't tell me you forgot you own birthday…"

Harry chuckled sheepishly. "I guess I've had more important things on my mind."

Lee gave a wry grin. "Well, Umbridge being locked up for a long time should make for a great birthday present. We'll have to celebrate properly later though."

"You don't have to-" Harry began, but Lee cut him off.

"Yes we do. It's not every day that a wizard turns sixteen."

It was nearly an hour and a half later when the Wizengamot shuffled back in, the frizzy witch at the lead with a triumphant look plastered on her face. The noise level in the room immediately dropped as they entered.

Madame Bones was nowhere in sight.

The frizzy haired witch took her spot at the podium. "It is at this time we would like to ask the 'Defense Association' to take a stand," she said loudly.

_Not good, not good, not good not good notgoodnotgood,_ Harry repeated over and over in his head like a mantra as he and the rest of the group stood carefully.

"It is the decision of the council as a whole that while Miss Umbridge's action were deplorable, they were in full letter of the law at the time-" The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the angry objections of the crowd. "_Silence_! Miss Umbridge was using her powers against the anti-Ministry group that stands before you today and had every right to institute the measures she did. She is free to go." She turned her eyes to the DA. "As for you: one step out of line from any of you and you will be back in front of this court in an instant. Do I make myself clear?"

There were muttered affirmations from the group. Harry glared steadily up her.

She banged her gavel. "Court is adjourned."

* * *

Harry clenched his teeth as he pounded spell after spell into the dummy before him. _These things really come in handy,_ he thought to himself, picturing Umbridge's bloodied face in place of the featureless dummy's own.

Deactivating the dummy, he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, exhausted.

"Well, don't you just look so cheery today?" came a sarcastic voice from the doorway.

"Hullo, Snape," intoned Harry in a flat voice. When he didn't look up, he heard the professor utter a deep sigh and come kneel before him.

Snape eyed him critically. "You look like death warmed over, Potter."

"That doesn't surprise me." Harry chuckled ruefully, sliding a hand through his hair. "I feel like Hell."

"What happened?" he asked pointedly.

"You know I went to the trial today."

"I had assumed you would."

Harry took calming breath and broke the news. "She was pardoned."

"**_What_**!" Snape stood abruptly. "What happened? How could they– that woman broke more laws than-"

"In the words of our wonderful Ministry," he spat that last word out with such venom that Snape stopped in his tirade, "she was allowed to terrorize school children because we're all a bunch of criminals."

"Explain."

Harry looked up, his eyes as tired as his body. "We were working against the Educational Decrees, Professor. We were working, therefore, against Ministry law. Apparently this nullifies any and all wrong-doing Umbridge inflicted upon us as she was working for the benefit of the Ministry. I'm sure you'll get a more detailed and colorful version in the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning."

Snape paced back and forth in front of his weary student, muttering expletives that were too vulgar to usually come from his cultured mouth.

"There is nothing you can do about it," Harry said quietly. "The world is rarely fair; I learned that a while ago."

Snape stopped wearing a hole into the floor long enough for this message to sink in. Then, he took a seat on the floor next to the teenager.

"We need to have a talk."

Harry winced. "Can we have it later? I really-

"Don't want to deal with it? Like you said, Harry; the world is rarely fair. You have to deal with it sometime." Snape shrugged ever so slightly. "It might as well be now."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he shot back without preamble, suddenly appearing harshly awake.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" Snape asked, heaving a sigh.

"Because," Harry murmured softly, "no one ever has before."

"What?"

"No one has ever been nice to me before if they didn't want something."

"Oh, Harry…"

Harry looked desperate. "So, please, answer my question: why are you being so nice to me?"

"Three weeks ago, at your Occulmency lessons… do you remember?"

"Yes." _How could I forget?_

"You have no idea what you did that day, Harry."

"What do you mean?"

"It is possible for some Legilimens to tap into their memories as a defense. But the memory you used..."

"I'm-" he started to apologize for that too, but Snape held up a hand to stop him.

"Wait. As that curse sped towards me I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. But I also saw yours."

Harry's eyes widened in alarm. "What?"

"I saw your childhood. It was so much like mine… I wouldn't wish my life on anyone, Harry. And when I saw you heading down the same exact path as me…" he trailed off, his words hanging between them like a stone barrier.

"Last year in 'Remedial Potions' that didn't matter to you," he responded bitterly. "You saw my life and didn't care."

"I thought those were only a few isolated incidents. I had no idea-"

"That's why you reacted to way you did when I joined the Agency!"

Snape nodded. "Now it's your turn."

"My turn to what?" But he knew.

"When did you use the Cruciatus Curse, Harry?"

There was silence for a few moments and Harry considered refusing to answer.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," he said finally. "In the Department of Mysteries. Right after…"

Snape closed his eyes. "And it didn't work?"

"No," Harry insisted vehemently. "Only for a second. She said something about how righteous anger wouldn't hurt her for long…"

"She would know."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Not now." He stood up gracefully, brushing invisible dirt from his crisp black robes. "Are you ready to continue?"

Harry paused, a black eyebrow rising towards his hairline. "Continue what, exactly?"

Snape gave a suffering sigh. "Your lessons, of course."

"You are still going to teach me?" Harry asked, surprised. "Even after what I _did_?"

"We all make mistakes, Harry. You just have to learn not to make the same one twice." He opened the door to the training room. "Let's get started."


	14. 13 Icons of Self Indulgence

**A/N: Major thanks to my beta, Xirb, for checking this chapter in 20 minutes so I could upload it before bed. You rock! And thanks also to Darak, who left me exactly the kind of review I love, filled with constructive criticism and questions. You have no idea how much I wished I had time to write this chapter so I could tell you exactly why I pardoned Umbridge.**

**_CH13: Icons of Self Indulgence_**

_"Perfect by nature_

_Icons of self indulgence_

_Just what we all need_

_More lies about a world that_

_Never was and never will be_

_You don't know how you've betrayed me_

_And somehow you've got everybody fooled."_

_'Everybody's Fool' Evanescence_

Harry stood outside the Minister's office, worn parchment clutched tightly in his fist. Distantly, he heard the Minister's secretary yelling at him, warning that she would call security if he did not vacate the area immediately. But his entire attention was focused upon the door in front of him.

He had imagined this day for the past few weeks, planning exactly what he was going to say. The trial the day before and its aftermath, however, had changed everything. No, now he didn't want to give his little speech. Now, Harry wanted answers.

He put his hand on the door and pushed his way through.

* * *

That morning …

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Harry's arm flung out and whacked the screeching alarm clock, perhaps with a bit more force than healthy for the clock's continued life; it already had several wires sticking out of its cracked plastic face from years of beatings from Dudders himself. Really, after the bullying he suffered his whole childhood at Dudley Dursley's fists, Harry should have been more sympathetic to the clock's plight. After the training session he endured the night before, however, he did not have time to coddle a dilapidated electronic.

Grimacing at the pain in his legs (hours of dodging hexes shot his way by Snape had taken a toll on his muscles), Harry slowly slid out of bed and walked over to the desk. His stomach growled angrily and he glared at it. To get a somewhat fulfilling breakfast would involve facing his relatives and their badgering, and that was something Harry could deal without.

He shuffled through the pile of mail left on the desktop, sorting out the letters from people he had never met and laying them off to the side for later perusal. He reluctantly pulled the Daily Prophet out from the bottom of the leaning tower of reading material. It was sure to be filled with lurid accounts of Umbridge's trial, speculations on–

Harry did a double take.

**FUDGE TAKES JUSTICE INTO HIS OWN HANDS! **the title screamed. **MINISTER UNSATISFIED WITH WIZENGAMOT RULING!**

Below the headline was a picture of triumphant Fudge, looking more regal and imposing than Harry had ever seen the portly man.

"_Following the shocking pardon of former Hogwarts High Inquisitor and Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor, Dolores Jane Umbridge, British Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, called a meeting of his personal advisors to discuss what would be done with his ex-Undersecretary. A decision was reached quickly and decisively. Using an obscure Ministerial power, Fudge banished Miss Umbridge from the United Kingdom…"_

Harry stopped reading in shock and dropped the paper.

"_Merlin …_" Harry breathed, staring at the discarded newspaper in blatant disbelief. Maybe it was time to deliver Fudge that letter after all.

* * *

The door slammed shut with a deafening bang behind him, and the gathered crowd glanced up at him with interest and slight irritation. Harry scrutinized the group, noticing it was made up of the Minister's most important cabinet members. The Minister himself was seated at the end of a long table, looking as weary as Harry felt.

Harry was suddenly very glad that he had thought to disguise himself before he entered the Ministry.

"May we help you?" a snotty voice inquired from the right. Looking over, Harry found himself face to face with Percy Weasley.

Harry smiled with fake cheerfulness and waved the letter in front of his face. "Special Delivery for Minister Fudge!" Percy shot Fudge a questioning look and got a nod in return. He reluctantly took the letter from Harry's hands and appeared to be examining it for any visible tampering, before passing it down to the Minister.

"You may go now," Percy intoned, chin raised slightly in the air.

Harry shook his head apologetically. "I've been told to wait for a reply."

Percy snorted with annoyance. "Fine. Take a seat." Harry plopped down into a seat on the end of the table, the only one unoccupied. As Fudge read through the contents of the letter, Harry observed the others assembled. He recognized several Wizengamot members (not including the frizzy haired witch from the day before), Madame Bones, and …

Mad-Eye Moody was seated on left, a few seats up, and was studding him intently. Harry shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"Why didn't Dumbledore bring me this letter himself?" Fudge asked, still sifting through the pages of the document.

Harry shrugged. "No idea."

Suddenly, Mad-Eye burst into laughter. The rest of the room's occupants stared at him with wide-eyes, some of them scooting further away in their chairs. Harry smirked and winked at him, momentarily reverting his eyes back to their usual green. Mad-Eye just laughed harder.

"Something amuses you, Alastor?" Madame Bones asked dryly, stifling a smile at the ex-Auror's hilarity.

Mad-Eye ignored her and addressed Harry directly. "We were just discussing you actually," he chuckled. "I like the red hair. Looks good."

Harry sniggered as well. "Alas, and here I was thinking I should have gone blond." He changed back into his normal self, startling the group once more. He gave a jaunty salute. "Good morning, Minister."

Fudge nodded in greeting. "Mr. Potter. I was wondering why Dumbledore would send such important documents to me through an average delivery boy." He frowned. "Then again, why would he send you, unprotected, to the Ministry?"

"Who says he sent me?" Harry deadpanned.

"Harry, here," Mad-Eye explained, both eyes fixed on Harry's smirking face, "has a habit of sneaking out of his relatives without Albus' knowledge or permission."

Harry shrugged innocently. "He said to pass the letter on to the Minister as soon as I was done. He never said _how_ it had to get to the Minister."

"Semantics." Moody said, his face twisting into a gruesome smirk.

Harry shrugged, smiling. "True. But I'm not the only one who likes to find loopholes in the laws." He sent a pointed look towards Fudge, who leaned back into his chair.

"Albus didn't tell you." It wasn't a question.

"You would be surprised, Minister, how little he tells me."

"If he doesn't believe that you should know," Fudge began, "then I do not know if I should tell you."

"Since when does the Minister of Magic take orders from the Headmaster of Hogwarts?" Harry shot back quickly. The rest of the room looked between the two, following each reply like a tennis match.

That one hit him. "Well, I-I don't."

"Besides," Harry continued succinctly, "if you don't tell me now, I'll just find out half-truths from others and form my own conclusion. As it stands, you have more respect from me on this matter than you have had in the past two years." Harry kept his smile and jolly tone firmly in place, only his eyes steeling. "You _don't_ want me as your enemy, Minister."

Fudge sighed in defeat. "Very well. This information does not leave the room." He rested his hands on the table in front of him, fingers woven together. "Mr. Potter, are you aware that Dolores Umbridge disappeared after she left the Hogwarts infirmary in June?"

"I had heard rumors to that effect. I had assumed that she had high tailed it back here."

"She did. However, this was not her first stop." Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion. "She was intercepted just outside of London and given an offer. For the next three weeks, Dolores was passing information to the Dark Lord."

Harry's eyes widened. "She was a spy?"

Fudge nodded somberly. "In early July, she was discovered sneaking illegal documents out of my office. Under the influence of Veritaserum, she admitted to sending the Dark Lord several other classified papers."

"How important was the information within these documents?"

"Thankfully, she was caught before revealing anything too damaging."

Harry considered this knowledge, head tilted to the side, before he spoke. "If you had definite proof of this, why wasn't she on trial for espionage? And why was she pardoned for the other crimes?"

"We didn't want You-Know-Who to know that we were aware of her being a spy. If he still thought that we didn't know he was in possession of those documents, then he would not know they were no longer valid."

"And she went free because..?"

"She was pardoned simply because I asked for her to be pardoned."

"_What_!" Harry exclaimed.

Fudge rubbed his temples, looking completely worn down. "One month ago, Azkaban was overtaken by You-Know-Who's forces," he stated bluntly. He cut off Harry's reply with a wave of his hand. "We haven't released the information to the public yet because we didn't want to cause a panic."

"If you sent her to Azkaban, you would be sending her right back into Voldemort's hands," Harry breathed in realization. Fudge flinched and then nodded.

"By banishing her from the country, we can lock her away in a safe house somewhere, far out of You-Know-Who's reach."

"And you get points with the public because you finally locked away the woman who was terrorizing their children," he said knowingly. "But what happens to the frizzy-haired witch who officially let Umbridge go?"

"Madame Dapper? She is suspected of helping Umbridge in her unlawful acts," explained Fudge. "We just don't have the proof yet."

"By overruling her, you make her look incompetent, killing two birds with one stone." At Fudge's puzzled look, Harry clarified. "Muggle expression, sorry. It means you are accomplishing two things with one action."

"Exactly."

"So where is Umbridge going to be held?" asked Harry.

"That I do not know. The Order of the Phoenix is taking care of that matter." He glanced up at the clock. "If you wish to know more, Dumbledore should be here any minute now. He can explain-" He was interrupted by Harry jumping out of his seat.

"He's coming _here_? _Now_?" He peered warily around the room, as if Dumbledore might pop out of thin air at any moment.

Which, in the Wizarding world, is highly plausible.

"I've got to go then," he said, walking vigorously towards to door.

"Don't want to get caught?" Mad-Eye asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I just don't feel like dealing with the unavoidable ensuing lecture is all. We're overdue one from yesterday as well, for going to the Trial when I was not allowed." He pulled the open the door, noting the secretary was glaring steadily at him from her desk. "Nice to see you all," he added, nodding to the others. "Hope we can do this again soon." Harry added a brisk salute of goodbye to the room, all but sprinting out the door.

* * *

_Well that went well_, Harry thought as he stepped off the elevator. He glanced around the Atrium, noting the vast assembly of reporters. _What th – _

The source of the disruption was soon noticed. Albus Dumbledore was stalking up the stairs, coming right towards him. Backing into the elevator again, Harry closed the doors and hit another button, hoping he got the right floor. _Maybe I'll just wait a bit before I leave._ He knew his disguise would hold (he now had chin length brown hair and deep blue eyes) long enough for him to sneak through the throng, but he didn't want to chance someone recognizing him as Mad-Eye had. _After all, you never know how many enchanted eyes are trained on you around here._

"Level two," announced the voice, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

Harry smiled as he approached a small lady seated at the front desk.

"Hello," he greet politely. "Could you tell me where Nymph's office is? Or cubicle …"

The woman looked puzzled. "Nymph?"

"Oh! Right. Sorry." He looked sheepish. "Tonks' cubicle."

"Er... it is the second one on the left."

"Thanks." He wandered down the aisle and glanced over the divider wall. "Wow, and I thought my desk was a mess," he commented and Tonks jumped, wheeling around and drawing her wand. Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Calm down, it's just me."

She studied him. "Brat?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Hey Nymph."

"What are you doing here?" She finally lowered her wand.

"Long story." Tonks shot him a look and he sighed. "I paid the Minister a visit today and had to get out of there before Dumbledore showed up. But I couldn't go back through the Atrium; it's swarming with reporters. Must have seen Dumbledore come in."

She raised an unimpressed purple eyebrow. "So you came to harass me?"

"But of course." Harry exclaimed with a flourish. "So, can I stay here? Well, just until the press leaves, of course." He gave her an imploring look and she nodded.

"Sure, just don't touch anything."

"Don't you trust me?"

"No."

"Never mind, shouldn't have asked." He paused. "What are you working on?"

"Reports," she answered shortly.

"What kind of reports?"

"Are you going to bug me with questions the whole time you are here?"

He pondered this for a second. "Yes."

"Just be quiet and read … this!" She pulled a random book off a small shelf beside her desk and thrust it towards him.

"A History of Potions Containing Newts' Eyes?" he read off the cover.

"It's required reading for Aurors."

"Fascinating," he remarked wryly.

"That seems to be the general consensus," said a voice from the doorway. Tonks spun around again.

"Commander Randal? I thought you were out on assignment, sir."

"I just got back." He gave Harry a quick once-over. "Who's your inquisitive young friend here? And why doesn't he have a visitors' badge?"

"You know," Harry said hurriedly, "there's a good explanation for that."

"Which is?"

"I … didn't _exactly _go through the visitors' entrance."

"Harry!" admonished Tonks.

"Are you telling me, the Head of the Auror Department, that you illegally broke into the Ministry of Magic?" asked Randal.

"Er… yes?"

He laughed. "Have you ever thought of being an Auror, kid?"

"Maybe."

"We could use some more like you."

"Want to take him now?" Tonks said snidely.

"You're trying to get rid of me already?" Harry put his hand on his heart in mock pain. "I've only been visiting you for ten minutes. I'm beginning to think you don't want me around, Nymphie."

"You got that right."

"And miss reading all about reptile parts? No way."

"Don't you have something better to do?"

"Sadly no. But it's only eleven o'clock."

Randal's lips quirked up. "Are you two related?"

"Cousins," they said in unison.

"I can see the resemblance."

Tonks ignored him. "There has to be someone else in the building that you could go 'visit'."

"Everyone's upstairs. And I really don't want to go back up there."

"Why are you avoiding him?"

"The usual reasons."

"I don't know what the 'usual' is."

"Drop it, Nymph."

"Fine, fine. But you know you can tell me right?"

"I know."

Pause. "Is there anything you want to tell me then, Brat?"

"Not really."

She blew out her cheeks in frustration. "Has anyone ever told you that you have an old soul?"

"I believe that's a first."

"Well, you do. It's an attractive quality and sometimes I forget you're just a teenager."

"You're point?"

"And then there are times like these, when you're annoying the hell out of me, that I remember that you're only sixteen."

Harry laughed. "Glad to know I'm doing my job."

"Maybe I should leave you two alone," Randal suggested, moving to leave the cubicle.

"Commander! I'm sorry, I forgot you were there." She looked abashed.

"Yeah, we kind of get caught up in our twisted family drama," added Harry sarcastically, avoiding the sharp elbowing Tonks sent his way.

"It's alright," Randal said, smiling. "Oh, and you can stay here as long as you want. Even if Tonks tries to kick you out."

"Thanks, sir."

"Hey!" Tonks exclaimed at the commander's retreating back.

"I like him," Harry stated.

"You would."

"Don't you have reports to be filling out?"

"Unfortunately," she grumbled.

"Are you going to tell me what they're about now?"

"If you must know, it's about someone called Dagger."

Harry gasped inwardly. "Dagger?"

"It's none of your concern. Now, enjoy the potion book and stay out of my way."

A few hours later found Tonks filing away the end of her report and Harry fast asleep on the couch.

"Did you finish those reports, Tonks?" Randal asked, once again entering her cubicle.

"Yes, sir. They're right here." She passed him the folder.

"I suppose your cousin didn't give you too much trouble."

She smiled. "Surprisingly no. He conked out on my couch after a bit." At her words, Harry rustled on the couch, turning over on his side.

"Brat?" Tonks whispered.

"Is he having a night-" Randal's question was cut off by Harry sitting straight up, gasping for air loudly. Several other Aurors nearby stuck their heads over the wall, looking at the scene curiously.

"St." Harry coughed roughly. "St. Halbert."

Tonks put a calming hand on his shoulder. "What about St. Halbert?"

"It's- it's gone."

Randal shook his head and said in a soothing voice, "It was just a bad dream, kid."

"Sir," Tonks began, eyes wide. "I think you'd better send someone to check – "

"Commander!" cried a young recruit, bursting onto the floor.

"What is it, Kenton?" Randal asked, a touch of impatience in his voice.

"An attack!" This news caught the attention of the few not already listening and there was complete silence in its wake. "They took the whole town! I'm sorry, sir, we were too late getting there…"

"Where?" he asked shortly.

"St. Halbert, sir."

All eyes in the room turned to look at Harry, who was sitting with his hands on his head, eyes unfocused.

Tonks knelt down in front of Harry. "Are you alright?"

"My head hurts," he said blearily.

"Hold on." She raised her wand and he flinched slightly. "Accio Calming Draught! Drink this."

"But, Nymph-"

"Drink." Tonks frowned, and Harry complied, taking a gulp from the bottle.

"Tonks, what is going on?" Randal asked, looking strangely at Harry.

"They– they've got-"Harry sputtered out, trembling.

"Who?" Tonks asked urgently. "Who's got what?"

"Voldemort." The room sucked in a collective breath. "He was looking for someone." He stared swaying slightly with dizziness. "He didn't find it, but…" He looked straight into the Commander's eyes, and Randal was shocked to find himself now looking into weathered emerald orbs. "He won't stop until he does."


	15. 14 Inside My Mind

**A/N: I took the lyrics out of the beginning of this chapter to appease new policy. If you wish to know where I got the title of this chapter, rent the movie or see the show, "The Phantom of the Opera" and pay close attention to the labryinth scene.**

_**Chapter 13: Inside My Mind**_

"For the last time _I **don't** know_!" Harry snapped, only just restraining the urge to bare his teeth. He was getting fed up with the interrogation. They had been drilling him for the past hour; they had to be giving up soon.

Another Auror stepped forward, staring hard at him. "You said He was looking for something. What was it? How do you even know?"

Harry gazed back impassively, making his face go blank of emotions. He had many years of practice at this with the Dursleys. For all Harry cared, the Aurors could be offering him the world. The Dursleys made this stupid questioning seem like child's play.

"Leave him alone," pleaded Nymph, looking weary from where she was restrained against the wall. Harry felt a pang in his chest. He didn't want her to go through any pain because of him. And now because of him and his stupid _visions_, her job was in jeopardy.

Randal gave her a stern look. "We need to know what is going on here, Tonks. You know procedure."

"There is nothing going on," Harry said pointedly. The entire room looked at him, the same way they had been doing since he woke. He swallowed down a sarcastic remark. "I just had a bad dream. That's all. That should teach me not to drink Butterbeers before bed." He started to stand and a young recruit pushed him back into his seat.

"Yes, you just happened to have a dream about a town that was completely leveled today," Randal said slowly. "I'm sure it was a total coincidence."

"Exactly!" said Harry brightly. "Glad we're on the same page. I'll just leave now."

"No one is going anywhere until I get some answers," he shot-down sharply. "We'll start off simple: what is your name?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

Randal slammed his fists against the table, but said nothing. "How old are you?"

"Three and a half."

"Why did your eyes change colors?"

"They didn't. You really should get more sleep if you're hallucinating like that," Harry advised calmly. Randal's left eyelid twitched.

"Do you work for the Dark Lord?"

"I refuse to answer that question."

"Do you work for the Dark Lord!"

_Doesn't take long for him to lose his patience._ "Yes. I'm a full-blown, scary masked, blowing cape Death Eater. I steal candy from children. I sacrifice goats on my weekends."

Tonks let a small giggle escape despite herself. She was the only one.

"This isn't a joke, boy," growled Randal. Harry rose stiffly, shaking off the Auror trying to contain him.

"_Don't call me **boy**._"

"How dare you-" He reached out towards Harry's shoulder and the teen flinched uncontrollably. Randal withdrew his hand, a puzzle look etched deep on his face.

"Leave him alone."

Harry spun around, his neck emitting a sharp crack. Minister Fudge was there, staring hard at the Commander's face. He didn't look happy.

Not happy at all.

"One might wonder, Mr. Randal, what you are doing here when there was such a high-scale attack this morning." Harry flinched again, this time drawing back from the venom in Fudge's voice. For the first time, Harry could see why Fudge had been voted Minister of Magic; he could be bloody scary when he wanted to be.

"Sir," he said, straightening up and facing the Minster, "we have apprehended a suspect we believe was involved in the attack and I thought it best to interrogate him personally. I have already sent a team to the site-"

"He's not a Death Eater," said Fudge calmly.

"There," Harry said petulantly. "You see?"

"Stop whining, Harry," rebuked Mad-Eye as he stepped into the room. "It doesn't become you."

Harry finally transformed back, slightly reveling in the shocked gasp this act received. "A lot of things don't become me, but that doesn't stop me from doing them." Harry remarked pointedly.

"Thomas!" Mad-Eye barked abruptly, making Randal, who was still staring at Harry in surprise, jump.

"Yes, sir?"

"I thought I trained you better than this! You couldn't recognize a Metamorphmagus when you saw him?"

"Well, I-"

"Tonks, Dumbledore wants you back at Headquarters," he interrupted. Nymph gave Harry an encouraging smile and left the room. "Now," he said in a business-like tone, turning to Harry, "I want you to tell me exactly what you saw, Potter."

"Potter?" Randal stuttered out.

"I don't remember," Harry repeated dully.

"Nothing?"

"Don't you think if I could remember anything I would tell you? I want Voldemort gone as much as you."

Mad-Eye sighed. "Alright, I believe you. I've been asked to escort you back to Privet Drive. Dumbledore wasn't too happy too find out you were here."

"As in Harry Potter?" Randal asked suddenly.

Harry looked at him and smirked. "I told you I wasn't a Death Eater."

* * *

2 August, 1996

"They thought you were …" Kyle trailed off, shaking with laughter.

"It's not _that_ funny," Harry said, but he was unable to repress a smile. "There is something else, though." Immediately, Kyle sobered.

"Do you remember something about the attack?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he grumbled, irritated.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "What else is there?"

"I think – now, don't panic, I'm not sure – but I think that the Aurors know about me. That is, they know about Dagger. Not that_ I_ am Dagger, but …"

Kyle jumped out of his seat and swore. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "I saw one of them doing paperwork on it." He didn't mention Nymph; he had already gotten her in trouble once that week.

"I'll look into it," Kyle finally said, letting out a deep breath. "Hopefully, we can stop them before they find out too much."

* * *

Harry returned to his room, his body aching for a nap. Instead, he found three letters waiting for him.

He groaned and flopped onto his bed. "Just drop the letters and leave, please." The owls hooted angrily and one took flight, landing on his head and pecking sharply.

"Ow!" He sat up and glared at the offending bird, who looked smug. "Fine, I'll open them now." The birds left their deliveries at the foot of the bed and flew out the window. "Yeah, now they leave," he complained and set about reading his mail.

**D,** the first letter read.

**Tomorrow, usual place, three o'clock. Don't be late.**

**C**

_Typical Snape. _Harry mused, smiling. _Short, to the point, and dripping with disdain._

**Dear Harry,**

**I must insist that this practice of leaving your house be ceased immediately. I will be visiting you as soon as it settles down here to discuss it more fully.**

**Albus Dumbledore**

_Great, I'm so looking forward to it._

Harry looked at the last letter, eyes opening wide as soon as he recognized the seal. The Ministry of Magic seal. His OWL results.

Eagerly, he tore open the envelope.

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**Enclosed are your Ordinary Wizarding Level scores. A letter detailing the courses you will be eligible for, as well as your supply list, will be arriving in a few weeks.**

**Congratulations on your achievements and best of luck,**

**The Board of Magical Education**

Below there was a list of signatures of the board members. Harry held his breath and turned the page over.

**OWL results for Potter, Harry J:**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts:**

**Written: OPractical: OOverall: O 2**

**Potions:**

**Written: OPractical: EOverall: O 2**

**Transfiguration:**

**Written: EPractical: EOverall: E 1 1/2**

**Charms:**

**Written: EPractical: AOverall: E 1 1/2**

**Herbology:**

**Written: APractical: EOverall: A 1**

**Care of Magical Creatures:**

**Written: OPractical: OOverall: O 2**

**History of Magic:**

**Written: APractical: -Overall: A 1**

**Astronomy:**

**Written: APractical: D Overall: D 0**

**Divination:**

**Written: DPractical: DOverall: D 0**

**O - 2**

**E – 1 1/2**

**A - 1**

**D – 0**

**T – 0**

**Student scored highest mark on exams in his year.**

Harry stared at the paper in shock. "I got 11 OWLs!"

* * *

3 August, 1996

"You made it into my class?" Snape said disbelievingly, reading over Harry's OWL results. The teen had already sent them off to Remus, Hermione, and Ron, but he couldn't wait for their replies; he needed to share his excitement with someone.

"That's not what you are supposed to say," Harry said sullenly. He was strangely disappointed by the Potions Master's lack of response. "You're supposed to tell me how wonderful my scores are."

Snape sneered, but indulged him anyway. "They're surprisingly good for someone of your capacity. Better?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine."

"They could be much better, however." He looked Harry squarely in the eye, complete seriousness filling his expression. "You've shown remarkable ability these past few lessons. It just goes to prove that you have not been applying yourself in your schooling. You need to stop lagging about and start working harder."

Despite the veiled insult, Harry beamed.

* * *

4 August, 1996

_Dear Harry,_

_I got my OWL results! 15 OWLs, can you believe it? I'm so excited! I wrote to my parents and they were so impressed and proud of me. I can't wait until our letters arrive and we can pick our NEWT classes!_

_How did you do? Ron received 7 OWLs and his mother isn't pleased. I told him he should have studied harder, but he doesn't listen to me. He was already upset because Mrs. Weasley won't let him go to the Quidditch Game tomorrow and this has made him even more unhappy. I keep telling him he wouldn't be able to go anyway because Dumbledore doesn't think it will be safe, but he just glares at me and stomps to his room._

_I hope Dumbledore lets you come soon, Harry. I miss you tons!_

_Love, Hermione_

_Dear Hermione,_

_Congratulations! You should be excited about your scores, you did amazingly well!_

_I only got 11 OWLs, but it was a lot better than I thought I was going to do. I wrote to Remus about it, but I haven't heard back from him yet._

_I haven't heard much from Ron this summer, either. Is he doing alright?_

_Hopefully, I'll be seeing you soon._

_Love, Harry_

_PS – It's too bad Dumbledore said the Quidditch game would be dangerous. It sounded like it would be fun._

_

* * *

_

5 August, 1996

Oliver Wood sat in the Puddlemere United locker room, staring hard at his twitching hands. He took a deep breath.

"You okay, Wood?" Oliver flinched at the sound of his fellow player, a Beater named Tim's, voice. "You look nervous."

"Yeah," he replied shaking his head slightly. "I'll be fi- " He flinched again as the door to the locker room spring open.

"Whoa, spiffy digs," said Fred approvingly as he stepped into the room. His brother came up beside him, surveying the area.

"How come we don't get a locker room this nice?" he complained.

"Fred?" Oliver asked, rubbing his eyes and hoping he wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing. "George?"

"Hey, cap'n." George clapped a hand, hard, on to Oliver's shoulder.

Fred grinned at his obvious distress. "How are you?"

"Good. Er … what exactly are you doing here?" he asked hesitantly.

"Watching a Quidditch match, of course," said a voice by the door. Looking up, Oliver saw another ex-teammate, Angelina.

"Wha – what?"

"A bunch of us from Hogwarts– ," Katie explained as she entered.

"Or recent graduates like Angelina and I," added Alicia.

Katie nodded and continued. "- planned to come out and see a game together."

"And we knew that you were playing today," said Angelina.

"We wouldn't miss this for the world, Oliver," finished Alicia.

"But, how - how did you get in here?" sputtered Oliver.

"We snuck in," they all answered in unison.

"Wait a second," Oliver said, finally letting this all sink in, "how exactly did you sneak in?"

Katie shrugged and answered vaguely, "Well, we do have the Weasley pranksters with us."

"Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but … do you know what will happen if you're caught?"

The group looked at each other uneasily.

"Er …"

"Um …"

"Well ..."

"The thing is ..."

"We haven't exactly thought that far ahead," Fred finally explained.

"It's no big deal, though," elaborated his twin.

"We work best under pressure," finished Alicia.

Oliver shook his head. "You really did all this just to see me?"

"No, we did it for the free food you guys get," said Fred sarcastically.

"Of course we did this to see you, you great git." George rubbed his hair affectionately.

"Who are these people, Oliver?" The captain of the team and Chaser, Robert, finally asked.

"My team," he replied, smiling slightly.

"What?" asked Sam, another Chaser, confused.

"It's my team. From Hogwarts."

* * *

" – and then Oliver here comes running down the stairs with nothing, but a towel on, shouting that there were snakes in his shower." Fred grinned mischievously as the crowd laughed. Oliver harrumphed.

"I always did love that story," replied a new voice. Oliver whipped around to see the source of the response and found a blue-haired teenager lounging on the doorframe, smirking widely. Despite the appearance, Oliver knew it could be no one else.

"You haven't been getting into any trouble lately, have you Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do I ever?"

"All the time."

"I think I'm offended."

"What did you do?"

"Besides sneaking into a pro-Quidditch league locker room?" he retorted dryly. The others snickered.

"Don't encourage him," Oliver shot at them and then looked imploringly at Harry. "Well?"

"Nothing. I've been a perfect angel," he said sweetly.

"It doesn't matter if you're a perfect angel or not, trouble still manages to find you," said Alicia.

Angelina nodded. "She's got a point." Harry opened his mouth to protest when he was cut off by footsteps in the hall.

"What was that?"

Fred peered out the door. "Bugger, the guards are coming."

"Good luck, Oliver!" cried Katie.

"Don't break a leg!" wished Harry enthusiastically. "Or anything else for that matter."

Oliver smiled as they left, feeling a slight boost in his confidence knowing that they were rooting for him.

* * *

"Hey, Harry! You made it!" Susan gushed and slid over on the bench so that he could have a seat between her and Dean.

"We didn't think Dumbledore would let you come, mate," said Dean, slapping him on the back.

Seamus leaned over and pinched Harry's cheek. "Now we can fully celebrate our ickle Harrikins birthday."

"No, no," Harry assured them, "that's not necessary, really."

"Doesn't mean we're not going to do it anyway."

"Look!" said Susan, breaking up any further objections. "It's starting!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen," boomed a voice from the announcer's box. "On behalf of the Department of Games and Sports, I would like to apologize. Today's game will not be occurring-" Loud, angry murmurs erupted from the crowd "– and I have been asked to inform you that all ticket money will be refunded by owl post in a few days …"

He trailed off as the sky darkened. A flock of crows descended on the spectators, causing them to fall into a hushed silence. As the flock flew closer, viewers began sobbing, screaming, and staring in panic.

Harry leaned in next to Susan, who seemed as scared as the rest of the audience. "What is going on?"

"Death messengers," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "They used them during the last war to inform families when one of their loved ones were …" She didn't have to finish. Harry looked up at the sky in dawning horror.

"But," Dean said, his voice trembling, "There are so many of them."

Harry wasn't listening. His scar slowly grew hotter, burning a brand through his skin. And he watched as one singled crow flew closer and closer, dropping a letter at his feet.

The solemn white lettering on the black envelope stared mockingly up at him.

'_To Mister Harry James Potter_'.


End file.
